A Detail Escapes Him
by ZuzuPetalsInkBlot
Summary: During the events of the show Daredevil, James Wesley encounters a young woman named Esme Jacobs and the meticulous James Wesley is thrown completely off kilter. Well, off kilter for him.
1. PART ONE: Under Your Spell

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

A Detail Escapes Him

PART ONE

Under Your Spell

******A lot of work required a lot of attention. Attention to details. A tablet full of information and a mind even fuller. It was James Wesley's attention to ****_every _****detail that he prided himself on. His mind was constantly abuzz with everything that happened around him. Sometimes he felt like he could almost predict the outcome of almost anything if he just planned it perfectly and prepared for every outcome. But it was his inattention to one detail that was what lead him to this particular moment in time. On this particular day. One this particular sidewalk. Any other day, any other time, he would have walked by. He didn't like to be dragged into the petty squabbles of these little people that ran about this hellish city too wrapped up in their own pathetic lives to see what was ****_beyond_****the city. **

But James Wesley did stop. For a single brief second he took notice of something beyond his own world. Beyond his Employer. Beyond every single second of his planned to perfection life. His life planned down to the very last second. He looked up just as a man and a woman were in the middle of an altercation that looked to be turning serious when...

"Watch out!" A hand shot out and grabbed his arm yanking him back. He looked up from beyond the arguing couple and the flashing lights and the angry car horns honking. At him. He stepped back up onto the sidewalk. He felt the adrenaline almost instantly. It was a feeling that made him feel sick. It traveled through his arms and legs and rested in his chest. He kept a cool head though, he was very good at that.

"Are you okay?" A voice, a woman's voice, asked. Concern wrapped in annoyance. Annoyance wrapped in concern and inconvenience. Her hand still gripping his wrist. He finally looked up. She was ordinary but within the haze of the adrenaline rush, the almost high that it was, she seemed so much more than that. A perfect stranger who happened to be in the right place at the right time at the precise moment James Wesley was not paying attention to the details. Or he was but not the details of himself.

"Hey, buddy, I asked if you were okay." She asked again. James finally collected himself. Like a fog immediately being lifted his heart slowed down from the thundering clusterfuck it had been a few moments ago. He offered a smile. "I'm quite alright. Thank you." James said and she removed her hand from his person. The electric touch of their skin touching was not something he experienced on a normal day to day basis. He never thought about human touch in an intimate way, not like most people. He shook hands and used comfort completely and totally separately. But he never believed in "the spark". Not until this woman's touched him.

James chalked it all up to the adrenaline. It had to be. She didn't leave his side though. James realized he must be staring.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" She asked him, stuffing her hands in her pockets. He noted the outline in her pocket quickly; keys, most likely mace or a small knife in her front pocket. She was tall but not taller than him. Her hair, only going as far down as her earlobes, dirty blonde and her eyes were... two different colors. James had heard of this condition before. Something called heterochromia- or something like that. She was either dressed for a very informal workplace or had the day off. Or didn't work at all. But she was wearing Tommy Hilfiger sneakers so she couldn't be poor.

"I... I was working. My apologies to have been an inconvenience." James said, sounding as calm and collected as ever. He was feeling somewhat back to his normal self.

"Didn't your mother tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?" She asked him, she was smiling at him and he couldn't help himself but... he smiled back. Why? He felt a jump in his, well, everything. Every part of him seemed to be waking up. Waking up from what? What kind of hibernation was his being in until this woman touched him and smiled. Women smiled at him before but he never felt this kind of satisfaction of knowing this one in particular was smiling at him.

It sent a strange sort of gratifying thrill through out him. Again, he felt like he was waking up. Like he had been sleeping in a pool, drowning out everything except what was ahead of him. Dead to the world.

"She did, I guess I didn't listen." James said making friendly conversation. For a brief moment he heard the ticking of his watch and it was as if he was swallowed by a black hole, torn back into the world of details, time tables, schedules, his Employer...

"I'm Esme." The woman said holding out her hand.

It happened in the blink of an eye, to an ordinary observer. To anyone else watching, Esme was a lovely young woman extending her hand to a man she just saved from a potentially fatal car accident. To James Wesley this was a path he could see extending before him. A path he knew would end in wrack and ruin. In pain. He knew if he touched her again there would be no going back. He was no believer in true love or love at first sight. Then why did he feel his hand extending towards her. As if time slowed down and the world suddenly dropped out beneath him. Perhaps he wanted to see if the spark would be there again if he touched her. It was just an experiment. There wouldn't be any spark that would wake him up from whatever dreamless sleep he had been wrapped in like a black fog.

And then just when James Wesley was about to diverge from the path less traveled, someone behind him nudged just a single fraction of an inch and pushed him towards Esme. James Wesley never believed in signs. But he took her hand anyway. And there it was... that instant spark. His eyes traveled across her face, her cheeks tinted a light shade of pink. She wore no makeup that he could see. And her eyes, two different sides of the same coin, looking at him... through him. "James." He said and immediately regretted it.

"Well, I need to be going. Thank you again for-"

"Saving your life? Some might call that heroic." Esme said, that little smirking still on her pink lips. James nodded. "Well, I'm not a fan of heroes. But thank you, Esme. Do you have a last name?" He asked, Esme took a step closer to him.

"A man who doesn't believe in heroes. You were dropped as a child, weren't you?" Esme joked. James tried not to smile but he did anyway. She had a good sense of humor.

"I just don't like getting my hopes up. I really must be going, Miss...?" James waited for a reply. She seemed to hesitate but he saw it on her face the moment she decided to give him her last name. He was elated and distressed at the same time. Like going to a party in hopes the person you have feelings for will be there only to be relieved and disappointed at the same time when they're not.

"Jacobs. Esme Jacobs. Mr...?" But James was smarter than that. _Don't give her your last name_, he thought. _You have hers, that's all you need_. As part of the show he checked his watch, easy way to get out of a question he didn't want to give an answer to. He's used it before.

"I'm sorry. But I'm running late. Perhaps you'll hear from me?" He said, leaving it open ended. Let her feel like she had the upper hand. In a manner of speaking, she did. "Are you asking for permission, James?" She asked him, he felt her run her thumb over his hand. It was then that he realized their hands were still clasped. This was getting dangerous. As dangerous as it could get for a man like him, and he'd shot someone before and nearly been shot in the process.

But this was uncharted territory. Not that he was a novice when it came to women he was just a little out of practice. He dealt with women professionally on a daily basis but intimate encounters like a handshake turning into a holding of the hands with a perfect stranger was something else entirely.

"And if I am?" James asked, he in turn running a thumb over her hand. The electric spark returned, it had never really left but had become subdued in their conversation. But now it came roaring back to life, reborn like a phoenix. And what a powerful song it was singing, beckoning him closer towards this woman he had only known for perhaps a few minutes. But the time had seemed to move like a wheel moving in slow motion. All the working parts still together, everything working in tandem but the motion of the ever moving wheel was slowed to a pace James was unfamiliar with. Like trying to run in a dream.

"I'll leave that up to you. You should be going. And you might want to answer that." Esme released his hand, their fingertips begging to be reconnected again. He wondered if she felt it too. He stopped himself from following her, he watched her until she was out of sight; lost in the sea of unfamiliar and unimportant faces. Then he remembered what she said.

"I'll leave that up to you. You should be going. And you might want to answer that." Esme released his hand, their fingertips begging to be reconnected again. He wondered if she felt it too. He stopped himself from following her, he watched her until she was out of sight; lost in the sea of unfamiliar and unimportant faces. Then he remembered what she said.

James answered his phone, embarrassed and perplexed that a strange woman in the street could make him forget one of his most important parts of himself. James' Employer was waiting on the other line and though James knew he wouldn't be entirely angry at him for not answering right away, the fear that something may have happened to him was heard through the phone. James felt guilty for making his Employer wait; he never did that. He always promptly answered the phone after the first ring, even if he was half asleep. It had become a reflex to immediately answer, to sleep light in case he was needed.

And yet, this one woman, this one simple stranger on the street had made him forget himself. You don't forget your name when you meet someone extraordinary, you simply forget to _be. _

And in those brief moments on that particular day on that particular street at that particular time, James Wesley, for the first time in a long time, had forgotten how to _be_. And it frightened him. Esme had left her fingerprints on his skin, a reminder of their moments together. It was like a very good itch he couldn't scratch or get to, like it clung to his skin. He flexed his hand, making a fist and then unclenching it. The feel of her wouldn't go away. The thought of her eyes wouldn't leave him when he shut his.

And when James returned to his apartment, very closely and strategically located near to his Employer's, he sat down at his desk and searched and located one Esme Lydia Jacobs.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story so far, please review if you liked it! You can also follow me on Tumblr- **


	2. PART TWO: I'm On FireThe Scent of

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

A Detail Escapes Him

The Scent of Burning Wood

PART TWO

I'm On Fire

**The sign for "Pyro Art" was hung outside of the small shop that stood out against the Starbucks and Chinese restaurants. It would have been much better across the street with the tattoo and piercing parlor. James found himself liking how it stood out against the yuppies and designer baby families that rushed by, not paying it another glance. **

It was an odd commodity.

James entered the establishment and his senses were immediately assaulted by the scent of burning wood. Very powerful and strong. An open window filtered out the smell and the light smoke was being taken up through a vent but the smell had sunk into the walls. Behind the counter, in a workshop, a feminine figure was hunched over her work station. James recognized the short blonde hair sticking out of the helmet.

Esme noticed him and turned off her torch. She smirked. "Well, if it isn't the man who never was. I was beginning to think you were a figment of my silly imagination." She said removing her protective helmet and gloves. She wore a leather apron with the name Ezzy stitched into it. James smiled and approached the counter.

"I'm afraid I'm here on business." James said, but Esme wasn't buying it. He could tell. God, how could he know that? How could he sense what she was thinking? How could he read her facial expressions so well after only having met her once before. James quickly looked her up and down, taking in the sight of her. The calm and uneasiness of her two different colored eyes. They were beautiful. She wore tight fitting blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

"Business? Are you interested in art? Well, my kind of art anyway." Esme said stepping out from behind the counter. James smiled and took in the art around him. A lot of it looked original and a lot of it was actually good. Seeing it in person was different than seeing it on a website where the pictures may have bad lighting or something else within the picture that he would find distracting. Like Esme posing with a man near one of her pieces.

"I'm here on behalf of my Employer," James started as he walked towards a wall of various pieces. Esme followed him. "Employer? Sounds very important. I'm honored." Esme teased, he could tell she was trying to flirt with him, perhaps try and recreate some of the "magic" they had shared the other day. Recapture it like water escaping from a glass, slowly.

"He's decorating and is looking for some art. I thought perhaps he might like something of yours." James explained. Esme nodded her head and crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. Her hands were slightly dry, probably from not being exposed to air or lotion. Her hair was a little messy from her helmet.

"And just how did you find out where I work, James?" Esme asked him. But this didn't make James nervous. He would answer honestly. He didn't need to set people up to watch her or follow her.

"I... Googled you." James answered honestly. Esme seemed to like his answer. "Is that as creepy as it sounds?" She asked him, that smile still hadn't left her face. James shrugged.

"Probably." He answered simply. There was a pause but it wasn't awkward. It was just a simple stare they held and shared. It was a private and intimate and completely silent conversation. The attraction between them was palpable. Almost as strong and intense as the smell of the burning wood behind the counter top. Esme's smile faded and she drew her bottom lip into her mouth slightly, it wasn't really a bite but an expression of yearning she couldn't seem put into words.

Esme moved away, suddenly breaking their eye contact. She turned the "open sign" over so it read "closed". She locked the door and pulled down the blinds. Her hand lingered on the blinds, her back to him. "Your... Employer, he wouldn't like anything in here would he?" She asked him quietly. James knew she couldn't see him but he nodded anyway, slowly moving towards her. His steps calculated, precise. Detailed. "Then... am I correct in assuming this isn't a business visit?" Esme asked, her voice still quiet. There was a slight raspiness to it that James felt utterly drawn to.

Esme turned her head a little, her back still to him. He was there. Tall and surrounding her. There was no noise just their breathing fusing together as one long heady pant. James pressed his lips to her forehead and they lingered there as she turned around to face him. As soon as she faced him, his hands came up to grasp her neck in both his hands. He wasn't choking her, he wasn't even squeezing... just holding. His mouth slanting over hers. Her hands gripping his wrists; she didn't know where else to put them.

It all moved so fast. One second James Wesley was walking down the sidewalk the next he was nearly splattered all across the street only to be saved by this tiny little creature; like she was plucked from a novel and placed in his life for a... reason? James Wesley tended to lean towards the phrase "everything happens for a reason". And after Esme had pulled him away from certain death the first fleeting thought, before seeing her face and his mind went blank for a tiny second, was how would his Employer get along without him?

But now, with Esme pressed so closely against him, her mouth moving across his, his Employer was almost a distant memory. The kiss was slow at first; just a gentle pushing and pecking of lips. When James went in for a third kiss her mouth peaked open just a little, a clear indication she wanted more, and he couldn't restrain himself. His hand slid down her neck to her waist while his other played in her hair. Esme moaned in the back of her throat and he pressed her against the wall. Her hands moved down to her suit and unbuttoned it, her hands spreading across his stomach and up his chest.

James pressed himself closer to her, as close as he could get and it still wasn't enough. She was still out of reach even if her tongue was in his mouth. Their kissing became deeper and rougher. She ran her fingers through his hair. He pulled away and removed his glasses and placed them inside his suit jacket and went after her again with even more vigor.

They didn't speak; they didn't need to.

Esme's scent was all encompassing; the faint sweet scent of her perfume hidden beneath layers of something smokey, something bitter but refreshing and harsh. The smell of burning wood corrupting him; and a man like James Wesley was beyond anymore corruption. He was a man beyond the definition of saving. Not that he needed it or wanted it. But in the moments lost between Esme's sweet tongue, her nature, her scent he felt himself desiring to be more than what he was. He wasn't a good man some might even call him the worst of men and he wouldn't be able to disagree.

Is this was falling feels like? Begging that you'll be good enough for a few more moments with someone you care for? Is falling more like floating in a sea of sounds and smells and desires yearning to be more than what you already are? James Wesley didn't have the answers to any of these questions and he didn't think anyone truly did; all he knew was that Esme was corrupting him in a way he had never been corrupted before.

James felt like he was being saved, being carried out of the shadows, reborn anew. He also felt like he was drowning in a cloud of smoke; being choked and tethered to something he never asked for. And no matter where he went in his life or how long he had left to ponder these thoughts or hold or kiss Esme or wonder at the future, the scent of burning wood would cling to him, adhere to him forever. Esme burned him in a way that he hated and craved.

They broke apart briefly and he gazed into her different colored eyes, a complex and dizzy look glazed over her them; fire and ice, love and hate. They were smooth and glassy and silently begging him to keep going.

James was about to oblige when his phone began vibrating. He groaned and pressed his forehead to hers while with one free hand immediately answered the phone. His voice was composed and without a trace of annoyance. He didn't even sound out of breath. Esme, for some reason, wasn't even hurt that he chose whomever was on the other end opposed to her.

"Yes, Sir. I understand." His voice was completely different. It was sharp and the playfulness she had liked about it completely disappeared. It was replaced by this cold, clinical almost robotic voice. The man stood straighter, his head held higher. Esme wondered briefly who was on the other end, his boss it must be. James spoke as if his "Employer" was in the room with him, staring behind Esme as if his boss had taken shape right in her shop.

Esme leaned forward and began planting lingering kisses along his neck. She noticed a muscle twinge in his neck and knew he was having a hard time restraining himself.

"Very good. I will. Goodbye." James hung up and pocketed his cellphone. He placed his hands on Esme's shoulders and suddenly his own shoulders relaxed. "That was a very dangerous thing to do." James said, meeting her eyes once more. Esme smiled. There he was, there's the man who came into her shop. "What? You've never done something like that before?" Esme countered. James was about to reply but instead he kissed her again.

When he pulled away Esme rested her head on his chest.

"Do you have to go?" Esme asked. She felt James nod his head.

"Yes. I'll contact you." James said and pulled away, Esme straightened his tie and buttoned his suit for him. There was something very sexy the way she did it, her fingers playing with the center button like she wanted to tear it off. "Contact me? It sounds like I'm part of a business plan not a person." Esme said and James sighed.

"I apologize. I'm in... work mode." James explained. Esme leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"I guess I'll be waiting for your call." Esme said and James nodded and headed for the door.

James didn't look back. Like he said, he was now in work mode.

**A/N: I hope you're enjoying the story so far. You can follow me on Tumblr by searching for intheruinsofhislove. Please review! :)**


	3. PART THREE: Love Me Like You Do

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

PART THREE

Love Me Like You Do

****

**Two days eleven hours and ten minutes, that's how long it took James Wesley to find a moment with himself. Normally he didn't mind the constant moving and going and meetings and talking with idiotic old men who played with money the way small children played with toys. The last two days had been... interesting to say the least for James Wesley. There was a lot of planning to do and a lot of coordinating. But for the first time in a very long time his thoughts were occupied with something other than business which was not something he was used to and normally he was very capable at pushing such trivial thoughts to the side for the sake of his Employer but now he couldn't, not entirely. He still functioned the way he always did, professionally, but he found himself thinking more and more of Esme Jacobs. **

Esme Jacobs... that strange little creature that had somehow wrapped him around her precious little finger. Yes, precious was a good way to describe her. And so was warm, inviting and beautiful.

James Wesley's apartment was sparse to say the least. There was no art and no photographs. He spent very little time there and the only people he allowed access to it were his Employer if he needed it and the cleaning lady whom he never saw. He rarely slept there at all, finding the time to do that elsewhere. James didn't really consider it a home at all, just a place to go to from time to time.

But when he did go to his apartment he imaged Esme there. He imagined her in the kitchen, on the sofa, in his bedroom. Normally James just couldn't find the time to think about anything sexual; he hadn't been with a woman in a while and usually that wouldn't bother him. But Esme's sudden appearance in his life, the way she came crashing in without asking, changed so much of his day to day thoughts. And yet he didn't allow himself to become entirely distracted. But he also missed her. Her scent, the burning wood, the brand she'd left on him was more powerful when he was away from her than it was when he was with her.

And it was on this night when James knew he wouldn't need to be contacted unless of an emergency that he decided to take action. Esme answered on the fourth ring, perhaps it was a tactic to make him suffer for not contacting her sooner. He couldn't imagine she was the type of woman to allow many men the kind of liberties she had allowed him in her shop. James was perplexed by her. She wasn't the type of woman he normally went after when he went after them at all.

No, Esme was more or less the complete opposite. She had an air of confidence with a more telling underline of vulnerability. Good samaritans often did. She was bold but he could sense she was shy. James Wesley's track record of dating women were usually the business types like himself. Confident, calculating, cold. She was hard wood and he was steel. They could be brought together to make something beautiful and it could also sink like the Titanic.

When Esme did finally answer her voice was light and welcoming. James briefly thought about hanging up. She didn't know it was him, he hadn't said anything. He wasn't the type of man to care for anyone else's needs besides his Employer. Why did he want to care for her needs too? Why did he want to suddenly fit her into an equation that could only come up wrong if he included her?

"It's James." He said, he wondered if she was smiling or not. He could practically taste her again.

"Oh, Mr. Mysterious. I was beginning to think I wouldn't hear from you. Haven't been hit by any cars, have you?" Esme answered. James knew she had to be smiling.

"No. I'm still alive. What are you doing tonight?" James asked her, he didn't see the need to play games with her. He didn't like them anyway. Pointless. Why not just get right to the point? He was burning to see her again. To feel her.

"Thinking of you." She answered, her voice was low. He wondered where she was. He leaned back in his chair and realized how uncomfortable it really was. It was for decoration only.

"Can I see you?" He asked, he stood. The chair was terrible and would have to go in the morning. He paced as he waited for her answer. A part of him wanted her to say no and another part of him knew how devastated he would be she said no. _Please say no_, he thought. There was a pause, was she biting her lip? The thought made him want to sit down again.

There it was, that feeling of anxiety. Fear, rejection. He clenched his fist.

"Where are you?" She asked.

And then before James could stop himself he told her he would have a car sent for her. She made a Pretty Woman joke but he was all seriousness.

The time he spent waiting for her was painful to say the least. He tried feeling comfortable in the living room chair but couldn't. He paced. He tied and re-tied his tie again and again. Finally he gave up on the futile attempt at trying to stay busy and threw the tie over the back of the chair.

When there was a knock at the door he hesitated, but only for a moment. He answered it and there she was standing in the hallway. She wore a yellow sundress with a white shawl and blue slip on sandals. He gave instructions she was to go up alone, assuring Francis there was nothing to worry about. "Hey stranger." Esme said, he wanted to kiss the smirk off her face. He stepped aside and she entered and he watched her as she looked over the apartment.

"Do you really live here?" She asked him and he watched as her shawl slipped off one lovely round shoulder.

"Sometimes." James answered honestly. She nodded taking her fill of the apartment.

Esme turned to face him and he slowly approached her. She reached out and took his hand in hers, running her fingers over his own and over his palm. The tiny delicate gesture sent a thousand tingling feelings up his spine. He clasped their hands together and brought her closer towards him. They began an incredibly slow dance to no music. _What a cliche, _James thought to himself. But he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"I'm glad you called." Esme said against his chest, he could feel her warm breath tickling his chest. He gripped her even closer, it never seemed like enough. Every fiber of being was aching to be closer to her. "I... I don't do this very much." James found himself saying the words but couldn't remember giving himself permission to make such a statement. He felt her fingers curling at the base of his neck, lightly stroking.

Esme let out a breathy little moan when he rocked his hips against hers and she pressed back, he felt her breath fan up from his chest towards his neck. He slid his hands down to her waist. "You're... doing a good job. If you're worried about being out of prac-" he didn't let her finish. He had been deprived too long. His mouth pressed against hers heatedly. He didn't give her a warm up kiss. The build up was enough. She moaned quietly into his mouth.

James Wesley would show her out of practice. He slid his hands from her waist to her backside, gripping her flesh and driving her closer to his hardening cock. She whimpered and ran her hands down his chest, her short fingernails leaving trails of burning fire as they went. There it was again... that scent of burning wood. It was as if she were made of it.

He pressed her against the wall like he had in her shop only this time he didn't waste any time and wrapped one of her slender legs around his waist. He moved from her mouth to her neck, he could taste a little bit of perfume on his tongue; bitter and chemical. But he didn't care. His hand cupped the side of her neck, his thumb brushing against her swollen lips. Esme's tongue flicked out against the pad of his thumb and it felt like the most amazing punch to the gut he'd ever felt. The sensation traveled throughout his whole body landing in the pit of his stomach.

Esme's hands gripped his biceps, her fingernails nails biting and scratching. Little gasps of "oh god" and "yes" passed through her lips but James remained silent except for his heavy breathing.

Another leg lifted around his waist, this time she did it herself. Then the first button of his shirt popped open then the second. James bit the side of her neck gently and Esme felt a hard pull in her gut and between her legs and she thought she might pass out from how good it felt.

"You like that?" James finally spoke up. It was thrilling for her, it was as if he wanted to mark her. Normally Esme didn't find that sort of thing sexy, she didn't want to be someone's possession just a person. Esme did her best to nod her head. "Yes... God, yes, James." Esme moaned heavily. James felt an eager swell of pride as she grappled against his shirt, another button popped. Her dress slid higher. "And this?" James asked before sliding a hand up the inside of her thigh.

James locked eyes with Esme. Her two different eyes completely glazed over in the heat of the moment, the minutes, the agony of wanting him to touch her further and deeper than anyone else ever had. Esme could only nod her head. James' hand slid further up her thigh, his thumb making painfully sweet circles against her hot skin. His face was so close to hers he slid his tongue against her lips, but didn't kiss her.

The torture was something he enjoyed when pleasing a woman. To see the want and need in their eyes as he made them wait for him to-

Esme grabbed his hand and pressed it against her aching core, her leg dropping and her foot planting itself firmly on the ground as she rocked against the hand she held there.

James couldn't help but smile. There was that boldness he had seen and admired in her before. And yet there was still that lingering vulnerability that he found just as sexy. James swirled his thumb over her clit and she made a choked gasping noise. He could tell she was having a hard time keeping her eyes on him; there was the shyness. Finally they fluttered closed. Esme released his hand and pressed her hands to his chest and buried her face in his neck.

"Uh... oh-oh fuck." She moaned and cried out and writhed against him. With his free hand, James reached down and grasped both of her wrists in his and held them above her head, and squeezed. This made Esme's eyes shoot open. James felt her struggle to break free but he wouldn't let her; a look of fear came over her face. He had seen it before just not in this particular scenario. He went to loosen his hold but she shook her head, _No. _

"You like it when I hold you down?" James asked her. Esme nodded her head.

James wasn't into overtly kinky sex but he had known a few women who liked to be held down during sex or liked it rougher than most. Esme didn't strike him as that type of woman but she was continuing to surprise him. Perhaps she liked the danger. And that he might seem dangerous to her made him feel very good.

"Har-harder." Esme whimpered. God, he loved hearing her beg.

"I can do better." James whispered against her lips before pushing her thong aside and pushed a finger against her dripping entrance. Then after a minute or two of thrusting one finger into warmth he added a second. "Faster or slower?" James asked her but she couldn't answer. He could see her trying to form the words but couldn't get them out. James enjoyed watching the wheels in her head turning trying to cope with all of the sensations washing through her body.

_Damn, I'm good. _James thought joyfully.

"I-I-" Esme whined and James felt her hips thrusting against his hand and he knew she was close to coming. If he were an entirely evil man (at least in the bedroom) he would have denied her but he wasn't. He wasn't a sadist after all. He wanted to see her come, he'd been picturing little else since their first kiss. Why would he deny her and himself such a pleasurable experience. "Come for me, hunny." James said before pressing his mouth against hers once more. Esme's tongue weakly met his as her hips culvulsed against his hand. He felt her take a sharp intake of air and then it came out in rough pants as her hips shook and he felt her warm quim twitch and tremble.

James watched it all unfold on Esme's face. Her mouth slightly parted, she ran her tongue over her lips. Her eyes closed not too tightly, her chest heaving, the straps had fallen and her shawl was long forgotten on the floor.

Esme could feel herself dripping down her thigh her panties soaked even though they were pushed aside. James didn't realize that through all of that, that he'd practically ignored his own arousal. He could ignore it a little longer. James released her wrists and removed his fingers from her quivering womanhood. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. He pulled the covers back and laid her down and turned on a soft blue light that filled the room pleasantly. Then he retrieved her a glass of water and sat down beside her, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

By the time he returned to her with the glass of water Esme was sitting up; her cheeks were glowing red and when he looked at her she looked away and smiled almost embarrassed.

"I need to say something." Esme said after drinking the water. James prepared himself for anything but he couldn't be bothered to worry about what it was.

"I don't normally do this. With anyone as a matter of fact. I'm not a virgin or anything but... I just don't go to strange men's apartments after knowing them for barely a week." Esme said looking down. James nodded his head and removed his glasses setting them on the night table. "I wouldn't think less of you if you did. I don't normally do this either." James said, he reached out and stroked her cheek and she smiled shyly.

"You're not a virgin are you?" Esme asked, jokingly. James laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, I could tell." Esme said setting the cup down by his glasses. "Come closer." Esme said, he scooted closer. "Closer." Esme said and he did. She leaned forward and began pressing slow open mouthed kisses against his neck, sucking lightly on his jugular. Her hand held the back of his neck and his hands came up to grasp her shoulders. James tilted his head back and fought to keep his eyes open. To focus on anything; like how many panels were in the ceiling... how many shadows were across the room, how many-

Then her tongue slid across his lips and into his mouth. She pulled him forward until he was on top of her, his leg moving in between her thighs. He slid his hands down to the front of her sundress and pulled it down. She hadn't worn a bra. Her breasts were average size, her nipples were small and rosey. He took her left one into his mouth, flicking his tongue across the hardened peak. Esme cried out and tangled her hands in his hair.

"Oh god you're so good." Esme whimpered. James smirked against her sweet flesh. So vibrant, so tempting and completely setting him on fire. His sexy little pyro. James pressed his hips into hers and she moaned at the contact. "Fuck..." Esme moaned. James leaned back, looking her over. His precious little pyro, her cheeks the color of fire.

James was thoroughly proud of himself, she was in quite a state; her short hair was messy, her soft cheeks aflame, her eyes glassy, her chest heaving with her breasts laying out just for him, her nipples still glistening from his attention to them. And her knees were weakly pressed together, shaking slightly as if they were ready to fall away from one another.

James sat back on his knees, reached over her and opened a drawer in the night table. Just because he didn't have sex on a regular basis didn't mean he was never prepared. He set the condom down in front of him and caught her eyes.

"Is this-" James started but Esme didn't let him finish. In seconds, faster than he would have thought, she straddled his thighs wrapping her legs around his back, her arms were around his neck. As her lips met his for what felt like the thousandth time James wondered briefly, _What have I done to deserve this? _He wasn't a good man... but maybe he did deserve this? Maybe...

Esme's sweet hands ran down his chest and finished unbuttoning his shirt then her hands moved to his belt. He let her do whatever she wanted. For the first time in recent memory James allowed himself to be at the mercy of someone else's hands. He was her tool, whatever she wanted. He would be anything for her in that moment; he would transform himself inside and out and hope she would take him back in again and again.

Esme's hands reached between them, he supported her against himself and his hands alternated between resting on her waist and on her lower back.

"God I want you." Esme's voice cut through the heavy breathing and the pounding of James' own heartbeat. He was honestly surprised to hear her say anything; he never was one to talk much during sex. But there was something about hearing her voice, hearing her talk about what she wanted to do to him.

With one hand she stroked his face and with the other, expertly, she unbuckled his belt. He hissed like a snake ready to strike when her fingers brushed against his, at this point, extremely firm erection. She was teasing him.

"Do you like that, James?" Esme asked him and he let out something between a gasp and a chuckle. He reached down with one hand gripped hers, which was now gripping his cock. He leaned as close as he could to her without kissing her and said, "Extremely."

Within seconds Esme had found the condom again and tore it open and slid it onto him. James slid his cock back and forth against her dripping entrance. She gripped his shoulders and raised herself up. He began pressing into her and she held onto him harder.

"O-hh-shit." Esme whimpered as she pressed down further onto him.

James held her against him, gently rocking.

"Wai-wait... don't move. It's... been a while." Esme said burying her face in his neck. James nodded his head. God it was torture not being able to drive into her again and again. He had never felt anything this close to torment before. Just pure agony of being inside her and the agony of knowing what this could mean. Where would they go from here? James wanted to avoid coming as long as he could. But her sweet entrance was pulling him in deeper, bathing his cock in warmth and painful bliss.

"Look at me." James managed to say to her. Slowly, Esme lifted her head from his neck. He kissed her sweetly on the forehead. "Okay?" He asked her and she nodded her head shyly.

"I'm going to lay you back now, okay?" James said slowly and kindly. She nodded her head.

"Hold onto me."

And then James laid her back, her legs still wrapped around him like a vine. He set a slow pace at first. Her hands couldn't stay in one place for long. One minute gripping his arms and the next pulling the loose parts of his shirt and then holding his face in her hands. Their eye contact remained. James himself could not find a part of her he didn't want to touch. Or corrupt...

Yes, she might have corrupted him with her sweet nature, she was a good person, but as he drove into her, the pace of their fucking becoming harder, he was overcome with the desire to burn away the good natured girl he first laid eyes on. He wanted to corrupt her and make her as bad as knew himself to be. Maybe that way he could rationalize how he could actually be with her. Deserve her...

James gripped her wrists in his hands above her head and drove into her harder than before, the air leaving her lungs. She didn't struggle though, she met him thrust for thrust. A part of him became frustrated.

_No, fight me. Hate me. Give me a reason to make you disappear..._

And then Esme looked at him with those eyes, those... _loving_ eyes. And he knew it was too late. He couldn't stop her from wanting to love him but he could try and stop himself. He knew he couldn't deserve her. But perhaps he could try. And that frustrated him even more. Why was he suddenly wanting to change everything he knew he was because of this one single person?

_Because she's the epitome of good and you know you're not..._

Esme's hands finally settled on his forearms when he let go of her wrists, her nails once more biting into his skin; not enough to draw blood but enough to leave a scratch. Her face glowed against the blue light of the room. Her eyes bright and all around him, James could only smell the scent of burning wood. It clung to him and he wanted to choke on it forever.

James kept up his hard pace, driving into her desperately.

"I-I'm... so close. Ri-right there, yesss..." Esme panted and he gripped her hips and snapped his. She suddenly clenched around him and she cried out and then her voice disappeared, her mouth open in a silent scream of perfect furious passion. And James let himself go immediately after her. He gripped her so hard he knew he must be hurting her at this point but he couldn't stop himself and he wouldn't stop.

"Uh, fuck." James groaned harshly. His thrusting stopped for a second but he felt compelled to keep thrusting shallowing until he knew he couldn't anymore. He collapsed on top of her knowing he was crushing her but she wouldn't untangle herself from him. Her legs remained wrapped around him like the roots of an ancient tree.

XxX

James awoke suddenly and whipped his head over to look at the clock. 2:30 AM. He hadn't bothered to check the time when he passed out; he couldn't even remember falling asleep. James glanced over to see Esme sleeping peacefully on her back. He wanted nothing more than to push the hair from her face. He wanted to wake her up and take her sweet young body again but he didn't.

Instead James got up and searched for his phone which he had left in the living room. He breathed a sigh of relief when the only missed called was from that old bastard, Leland. As long as he didn't disappoint his Employer that's all that mattered. He returned to his bedroom to find Esme had rolled over onto her side facing him. He changed into a pair of pajama pants and got back into bed with her, placing his phone on the table the volume turned all the way up. He set an alarm for himself so that he could wake her at an appropriate time.

As James curled up behind her he found himself kissing her sweet shoulders, her skin still burning from earlier. His own skin felt quite hot. This was the fire they had created. The spark had started an inferno and James hoped and feared he would be burned right along with everything the inferno touched.

**A/N: I hope you're still enjoying the story thus far! Let me know what you think. You can also follow me on Tumblr, just search intheruinsofhislove.**


	4. PART FOUR: Straight to Number One

A Detail Escapes Him

PART FOUR

Straight to Number One/This Magic Moment

**James awoke from his sleep an hour before his alarm. It was 5:30 AM. He rubbed his face and noted that Esme was still asleep, this time she was facing him. She must be a restless sleeper if she changes positions so much. Strangely, though James was used to sleeping alone, her presence in his bed didn't disturb him. He checked his phone, still no missed calls. The universe liked him apparently. **

Esme moaned and her eyes slowly opened.

"Hey." Esme said and she moved closer. At some point in the night she had removed her sundress entirely and was completely naked. James fought the urge not to just roll her onto her back and take her again and again. "Hello." James said back to her, she reached out and ran a finger over his face, tracing his lips was it's last destination.

"You should grow a beard." Esme said and he laughed.

"It's not very professional in my line of work." James said and he tangled his fingers in hers.

"And what do you do, Mr. Mysterious?" Esme said getting closer, her voice lowering. For a moment James couldn't tell if she was completely serious or just flirting. He decided it must be both.

"I'm an assistant." He said, he wasn't lying. He was just omitting certain truths. She didn't ask him the details of his job just what he did.

"Pretty fancy apartment for an assistant." Esme countered. James shrugged and kissed her palm.

"He just likes me." James replied. "We've known each other for a while now. I'd say I'm... I'm more than an assistant at this point." He explained. Esme nodded her head.

"Do I have to worry he'll be competition? Because I don't share." Esme said jokingly. He shook his head.

"He's not exactly a... jealous man. Exactly."

Esme seemed to be fine with this answer because she reached out and kissed him. He began kissing her back when she suddenly pulled away, a hand over her mouth.

"Shit. I haven't brushed. I'm sorry!" Esme said and she pulled the covers over her head. James laughed.

"Neither have I. I don't care. Come out of there! I'm sure your breath is divine." James said and he pulled the covers back and she yelped and tried to cover herself but he had seen her. Every last dainty and beautiful inch of her. And the delicious bruises that were beginning to form. James liked how they looked on her, knowing they were caused in the passion they shared earlier. He wasn't sadist, of course not, but there was something primal in seeing her covered in his love marks. He wondered what his own body looked like.

James pulled Esme's body to his letting her feel his arousal.

"Seriously?" Esme asked almost in disbelief. James nodded his head and she smiled, kissing him. Their second time together was gentler and when they were finished his alarm began going off.

They dressed and James walked her to the door, he wanted to to walk her to the car but he couldn't. Someone could see them and it could put her danger. Fearing for someone else's safety besides his Employer was not something James was entirely comfortable or used to. But since meeting Esme he felt a powerful feeling of wanting to protect her; to shield her from harm no matter what. And that put a fear in him he wasn't accustomed to.

The rest of the day James spent working and he worked well into the night. He sent her a text and marked as a private number. He asked how she was and she responded that she was "healing". When he asked what she meant by healing she sent him a emoticon winking and he understood. He almost felt daft at not realizing sooner what she had meant.

At 6:30 AM the next morning James awoke but this time in a hotel room. He had been out all night doing the bidding of his Employer. Not that he was complaining, he never did. But he wondered after Esme. What was she doing? He tried to put her as far from his mind as he could but it was getting harder. No amount of ignorance about his feelings for Esme could diminish the thousands upon thousands of butterflies he felt when he got a text from her. Sometimes he couldn't respond right away and honestly sometimes he forgot. She would ask when she could see him again and he would tell her very soon; it wasn't a lie. Technically he had never lied to her.

James dreaded the day when he would eventually have to lie to her. It was inevitable. It was built into the path he had set himself on the moment he decided to ask her for her name. It was woven and carved into the very fibers of himself. And everywhere he went the scent of burning wood followed him. Like a living ghost, Esme haunted him.

XxX

The night when Hell's Kitchen went up in flames James saw Esme again. She lived far from the chaos but he feared for her anyway but so much had to be done that he never found time to text her; he knew she would be angry and that couldn't be avoided but right now he couldn't think about her. Right now his Employer was all that mattered and the plans he was laying down.

James had six text messages from Esme when he was eventually alone. Vladimir was taken care of, finally out of his Employer's way. That was something that would help him rest easy. The Russians never knew when to keep their mouths shut and his hope was that Vladimir had said little or nothing to the man in the mask.

James read through her messages-

PRIVATE- Are you alright?

PRIVATE- Don't know if you've heard but Hell's Kitchen is kind of, you know, on fire. It's all over the news, are you OK?

PRIVATE- I'm assuming since your not responding you're either dead or asleep. Right now I'm hoping it's either or.

PRIVATE- I take that last one back. I hope you're OK. Call me.

PRIVATE- Seriously though, please don't be dead.

PRIVATE- I'll wait up for you. Please be safe.

James finally responded back asking her if she was still awake and if he could see her. He waited for a response for less than thirty seconds. Her reply was short and simple: YES.

James didn't bring flowers only himself. He wasn't the bringing flowers type of guy. He wanted and hoped to think she had figured that out about him. He knocked and tried his best not to look exhausted when she opened the door. She looked tired too, at first. James couldn't comprehend right away how he felt when he saw her. She wore a black bathrobe and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Crying for the city… crying for him. His heart clenched...

_Guilt..._

Esme turned away from him and he entered her apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. He looked around, surveying it and taking in every detail. It was small, her pyro art decorating the walls here and there. A few family photos, a picture of a dog on the mantle with "RIP" written in black lettering. Her apartment made her even more real to him.

James removed his glasses. Time for an apology or something that would make her feel better. Make her hate him a little less. He didn't know why but he was torn between wanting her to hate him and throwing him out and wanting to stay and be engulfed in her a fire of her own making.

"I know you're angry," James began. "And that's... acceptable. I was detained."

Esme turned around and glared at him.

"Detained?" Esme said. She ran a hand over her face.

_Please stop crying, _James thought to himself. It was painful not because he detested the sight of people's tears but because he couldn't stand to believe he was the cause of _her _tears. The more real she became the easier it was to believe he deserved her, or wanted to deserve her. And he couldn't keep letting that happen. But there he was, floating closer and closer to the middle of this path and floating down to her own little world where he could perhaps earn a place by her side.

"James, I know we're not a couple or anything but... Jesus, I thought you were dead. I've been sitting here-"

"I know-"

Esme held up her hand and he let her speak. He was surprised at himself. He never gave anyone that kind of power over him. Only one other person ever did, his Employer… _he _was supposed to be all that mattered.

"I've been sitting here," Esme began again. "Thinking about every single terrible catastrophe that could have happened to you. A part of the city is burning, people are dead, I'm terrified for you... a man I barely know and all you can say is... you were _detained_." Esme finally sat down on her small sofa. James bravely sat beside her. After a moment he put an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him.

_Don't cry for me, please, don't._

"I won't say I'm sorry because that won't change how you're feeling. I can't promise it won't happen again either." James said truthfully. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. For a moment her eyes were almost the same color. But James could barely stand to look at them knowing he had caused so much pain in her.

"What can you promise?" Esme asked him and James didn't know what to say.

James leaned forward and kissed her. She sighed into his mouth and kissed him back.

_Yes. Forgive me. Please forgive me._

Esme pressed further onto him and soon James found himself leaning back with her on top of him. He was surprised because she wasn't normally this aggressive when it came to having sex. But James could see she was all boldness tonight. Maybe it was something about thinking he was dead and realizing he wasn't.

James slid his hands down her waist and pushed his erection against her bottom, she wiggled against it, teasing him. "You're an asshole." Esme said pulling away from his lips to kiss his neck, finding his sweet spot and biting down gently.

"I probably won't change." James said honestly, grinding himself against her. Esme smirked and suddenly stood up and pulled away from him leaving him panting and hard on the sofa.

They stared at each other; each of them daring the other make a move. The teary look in her eyes had faded away, her cheeks flushed.

Esme removed her robe and threw it over a chair. She was wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants. She turned and walked into the bedroom leaving the door open. James followed her removing his suit as he went. He joined her on the bed and spooned her.

"Make me a promise." Esme said as he kissed her shoulders and neck.

_Anything..._

"Promise me you won't let me think you're dead again." Esme said and she turned her head to look at him. James nodded.

"I promise." James said and he believed himself for a moment. The truth was that James knew his life most likely had a time table. An unknown expiration date.

_No one gets out alive. Just ask Hell's Kitchen._

But James knew he needed her to believe him and she did. And briefly for a moment he believed his own lie.

"Will you stay the night?" Esme asked him, he slipped a strap off her shoulder. She pressed her back against his chest. He acknowledged the question with a grunt but didn't verbally respond, trying to distract her. Apparently it was working because she let him slip a hand up her tank top and squeeze her soft breast. She moaned warmly and pressed her mouth to his neck, his chin and the corner of his mouth; anywhere she could reach from her position.

When Esme tried to turn to face him he wouldn't let her. No, he wanted to take her like this. On her side, pressed as close as they could get to one another. Her fire burning them both alive until their remains were a stoic pile of grey ash frozen perfectly in time until a soft breeze would fade them into oblivion forever.

Somewhere between feeling her up and her grinding her backside into his crotch her tank top came off and he slid a hand inside her sweatpants, again she wore no underwear. James wondered if she did that just for him. The thought of her waiting for him without panties on thrilled him and he wondered if she ever became so frustrated that she had to touch herself until he arrived.

James found her aching clit and made tiny circles with his fingers against it. Esme reached back trying to find his belt. "Touch yourself." James ordered, almost coldly. She paused only for the briefest second. He removed his hand from her and she replaced it with her own. As James undid his belt buckle he watched her little hand moving inside her pants and he didn't think he could get any harder.

But as James removed himself from his trousers he groaned.

"What?" Esme asked him worried. He leaned his head against her shoulder, kissing it.

"I don't have a condom." James told her but she smiled. Suddenly she was off the bed and opening a dresser drawer, she fished around for a minute before returning with a condom.

After another minute or two of enjoying what her sweet body had to offer him, which he kept finding was a lot, he moved back into his original position behind her. The contrast of her now completely nude body against his still mostly clothed one was something James found totally erotic and he didn't know why.

The condom applied, James parted her wet folds and pressed himself into her. A stuttering breath left her body every time he filled her. With his arms securely around her he began a slow, lingering pace. She reached for him and grasped him tightly as if they were both about to fall off the edge of the world and if they were she wanted him as close to her during the fall as possible.

James ran his teeth across her neck, leaving bites he knew would show in the morning.

_She's going to get me killed, _James thought.

"Ah-oh fuck." Esme moaned and he moved faster. He couldn't last much longer. He paused his movements and reached down to flick her nub a little harder and soon she was shuddering against him, completely undone. Minutes later, as she lay there panting and moaning against him in wanton desire, James felt himself giving out his last thrust. He held himself inside her. He could feel his cock twitching inside of her and wondered if she could feel it too.

When James went to pull away she gripped his hand tightly.

"No," she said. "Stay… stay inside." James couldn't believe his ears. She wanted him to… remain inside her? He wasn't quite sure why but he did. It wasn't until he knew she was asleep that he did finally exit her body. He went into her bathroom and splashed water onto his face. He stared at his reflection as he dried his hands.

His shirt was unbuttoned and askew, tiny red welts from her nails were scattered across his body like a warzone. It was fine though, he didn't mind being a casualty of her nails. He was feeling more alive every time they had sex. James wasn't someone who used the term "making love" because the very connotation made him want to be sick. It was too cliche, too corny. But he did enjoy the act of being with her so intimately. It was powerful and sexy and a little dangerous.

James returned to her bed and shut off the light. When he laid down he didn't wake her. He stared at the ceiling wondering how he had gotten this far. How had _they _gotten this far? And why did he let it happen?

**A/N: I hope you're enjoying the story, I'll keeping on posting. You can follow me on Tumblr if you search intheruinsofhislove. Thank you for the review(s) if you've left one.**


	5. PART FIVE: Rhiannon

A Detail Escapes Him

PART FIVE

Rhiannon

**Things seemed to have calmed down considerably in James' world. There was the annoyance here and there but since Hell's Kitchen went up in flames everything seemed to be going uphill, if a little rocky. James was surprised that he was finding more and more time to spend with Esme. They would hideout in her apartment or his talking or fucking. James didn't care which one they did as long as he was with her. He knew the slope he was treading was a slippery one. But he couldn't find it within himself to completely cut himself off from her. **

However, James could tell Esme was growing restless. She didn't want to be kept cooped up in an apartment with him all day long or for the few short hours they would spend together. She had begun to consider themselves a couple but James thought differently. He was not emotionally equipped to be in a real relationship he decided a long time ago. He enjoyed their arrangement. But he still cared for her more than he should have. More than he thought he was willing to.

"There's no way you can get away?" Esme asked him. He was dressing after spending an evening with her. He stood in the bathroom and she leaned against the doorframe.

"We've discussed this. My Employer needs me. It's critical that I remain in the city." James explained, he picked up his tie but Esme stopped him. She turned him towards her and began tying it for him.

"I'm beginning to really dislike this… man you work for." Esme grumbled.

"Why?" James asked her.

"Because he's keeping me from you." Esme said and she tightened the tie a little more than he was used to. He thought maybe when she offered to tie it for him then perhaps she'd forgiven him. He realized he wasn't quite out of the woods yet.

"Well, I told you my job is very demanding." James said leaving the bathroom to retrieve his suit. Esme followed sitting down on the bed.

"Yeah, getting coffee and buying art. Must be a real pain in the ass." Esme complained.

James wanted to find it in himself to be angry at her. If anyone else mocked his position or his relationship with his Employer he would be furious. But Esme was always different. However, she did not change his mind whatsoever about his Employer; in James' mind he was the best kind of man and believed in him no matter what. They shared a working relationship but also a friendship. James never took it for granted how much his Employer trusted him. James knew he might be the only person that he trusted. That wasn't something you just ignored.

"I told you my work is much more detailed than that." James argued, though he didn't raise his voice. Esme looked up at him, he knew she was annoyed. No one needed to be a mind reader to figure that out.

"I really should be going. I'll see you soon." James said, he kissed her forehead and she touched the side of his face.

"I… yeah, I'll see you." Esme said kissing his cheek.

James left the apartment but paused in the hall. He turned and stared at the door. He wondered… was she looking at him hoping he'd come back in? He continued to stare at the door imagining every scenario where he went back to her. Every one of them ended poorly. He wanted to go to her but he knew he was needed elsewhere. She didn't really need him, she was strong on her own. She had lasted this long without him.

And suddenly James felt this sudden resentment towards Esme. He turned and left the building. How dare she conjure up such inane feelings in him. Since he met her his mind had been nothing but a swirling cauldron of fucked up feelings he was not used to. He hated it. James knew the fault wasn't truly hers but his. However that didn't stop him from being irrationally angry at her. Esme made him want to tell her everything about himself; to spill his deepest darkest secrets. And in his mind he imagined her accepting him every time.

But deep down James knew there was no possible realistic scenario where she would ever accept him and the things he's done. James knew he wasn't the normal individual's definition of a good person or a good man and before meeting Esme he had been perfectly content with that. He had never felt ashamed of the choices he had made or the paths he had taken. And just when he thought he was comfortable in his life and his part to play in the events to come Esme Jacobs had burned her way into it all throwing every single plan and choice he had ever made completely off kilter. And now he resented her.

James sat in the SUV doing his work on the tablet. The SUV had become basically his office. He spent the day in meetings, with his Employer, he spent it completely without a thought of Esme. He had managed to block her out. It was easier than he thought. And when he did finally think of her again it wasn't until much later. He read her text message. She wanted to make him dinner.

Suddenly, in his dark apartment, he was overcome. He felt his heart rate suddenly raising, his throat clenched and for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack. He stumbled to the bathroom and collapsed in the shower the water turned to cold running down over his head. He took deep breaths realizing it was most likely a panic attack. When the attack had subsided he changed his clothes and found his phone on the floor. He read her text again and realized he was shaking.

Every fiber in his being that made up everything that he was as a person was screaming at him to refuse everything she had to offer. This could never work.

_All this time I've felt like she's been burning me… but I'm the one who could burn her to the ground. _

James knew that not responding was just as bad as his real response-

JAMES- Can't, lots of work.

James had done many things he knew the average person would never be able to live with. Yet here he was completely capable of living with all of them and sleeping peacefully at night but disappointing Esme was something that affected him so strongly he had a panic attack. He never had nightmares about the people who had been victims at his or his Employer's hands. For Christ's sake he watched his Employer smash a man's head off without losing his lunch. James was self aware enough to know that, that kind of behavior wasn't normal.

Yet here he was, pondering his… relationship with Esme. Was that what it was? _Yes_, he decided. There was little else he could really call it. They weren't friends. He felt they shared something deeper than that and he knew she felt the same way though they'd never say it out loud. James felt the same sense of protectiveness and security that he felt for his Employer that he did for Esme.

The resentment he had felt earlier in the day towards Esme was beginning to fade. He was starting to rationalize why he did deserve her. He had fought, scratched and clawed his way to where he was now. There was a reason his Employer trusted him and only him; it was because James Wesley was entirely loyal to those who placed their trust in him. Trust and loyalty were two things that James valued very highly in his life. And he believed he could trust Esme but could he trust her with the truth of who he really was?

James didn't mind keeping up the charade as a hard working assistant for a demanding boss, technically he still had never lied to Esme about his job. She had yet to ask him the details of his job she just assumed they were like any other assistant. But his duties were much more detailed, dangerous and often ominous. He knew what the others thought of him, that he was just some lap dog and he didn't care.

Worrying about what people thought of him or his Employer wasn't important to James, it was their actions that mattered most. Predicting them and being prepared for them was always at the forefront of his mind. And now in that space of worrying about his Employer's needs and wants he had worked Esme in somehow. When had that happened? The moment he decided to pursue her.

James wanted to believe he deserved her sweet nature and kindness. But in the end it was wasted on him. What could he do with it? How could he expect to have a happily ever after with her? Their relationship was on a timetable just like everything else in his life just like his own life. James could not bring himself to bringit to a premature end though. He wanted to try and squeeze in every possible moment with her that he could and at the same time he wanted to avoid her at all costs.

He could imagine the hurt and pain that she would feel when he did eventually end things or even worse if he were to die at the hands of any of his Employer's enemies. It was a risk he took every day. Every waking moment he knew he was in danger and every moment he spent with Esme increased her own risk of danger. They were a walking talking time bomb and she had no idea.

But what could he do?

Esme was soft grass and flowers, she was spring incarnate. She was good and kind and stopped people from being hit by cars. She was kindness and he was ruthless.

James was once described as a robot. He wondered sometimes if he was a robot. A synthetic life form created to be the perfect assistant, completely reliable, trustworthy and loyal. Maybe he was and all the memories he thought were his weren't at all. Maybe there was a locker of James Wesley's somewhere all over the city. How many deaths had he had then? What was his number?

Maybe that's why he was so conflicted with his feelings towards Esme. Perhaps he was never meant to develop them. James had never had a problem distancing himself from a person before and yet here he was laying awake until all hours of the night wanting and dreading her all at once.

_Maybe it's because you… in some way, some sick twisted way love her. You know she's falling in love with you. You wanted a reward for everything you've done and suddenly a beautiful young woman full of hopes and dreams and blind optimism saves your life and you take what she has to offer without question. You don't want to be saved… you want to burn and you want her to burn right along with you. You're not the one who deserves a happy ending, you're the one who destroys them._

XxX

"You seem… distracted lately, Wesley." Fisk said as they sat in the SUV. James felt himself tense but didn't let it show. He remained calm. "Your work hasn't faltered but… I know you well enough to know when something is troubling you. Just as you would voice your concern to me I wish to return the gesture." Fisk said kindly and he waited for James to speak.

James knew there was no point in lying to Fisk. The man would know right away and if he did lie to him it would completely violate the open and honest friendship that they had built. Well, it was now or never.

"I've become involved with… a woman, Sir." James said, clasping his hands together in front of him, he looked his Employer in the eye. Fisk didn't make any noise or response. "I apologize for being distracted, I thought I was handling it well. But, you see, she doesn't know anything about who I am or what I do or who you are, Sir, though I could understand why that would be a concern of yours. This was not planned, I assure you." James concluded. He respected his Employer greatly but always feared him, as any intelligent person should.

Fisk nodded slowly, he didn't seem angry but James knew that's when you needed to be most careful with his Employer.

"I'm not angry Wesley nor am I disappointed. I'm going to be honest, for some time, I thought you needed a companion." Fisk admitted. James was almost insulted by this but tried not to look it.

"Don't misunderstand me, Sir, but I never thought I needed anyone. Being in your employment has given me a great sense of purpose in my life. There is no void in my life where I've felt that I needed a companion." James said. His Employer nodded his head as he did before he was about to speak.

"And yet you still have found yourself involved with someone. No void at all, Wesley?" Fisk asked and James realized how wrong he must have been in his thinking. Perhaps on a subconscious level he was lonely. James had never thought about it that way.

"I understand the need for companionship beyond our own personal friendship, Wesley. You know me better than most. I am not going to discourage this relationship of yours but I'm sure I do not have to have to ask that you continue to omit things from her. Is there any danger of her getting… out of hand?" Fisk asked.

James shook his head.

"No. She's in the dark, I'll keep her there." James said assuring his Employer. Fisk nodded his head once more and glanced out the window.

"I'm happy for you Wesley." Fisk said and James felt happily elated by this admission. His relationship with Fisk was more important to him than anything. They were many things to each other. Some people would even say they were as close as brothers, thick as thieves, Ying and Yang. But James knew they were much more than that. They shared a connection and an understanding of the world. More importantly they understood each other. James felt very relieved that he was able to confide in someone about his relationship with Esme. He didn't quite realize how heavy the burden of not telling anyone had felt until he had removed it.

"What's she like?" Fisk asked suddenly, James had thought the conversation was over but apparently Fisk had more questions.

"She's… she's not," James paused trying to find the right words.

"Not like us, is she?" Fisk asked, his tone was neutral yet supportive. James appreciate that.

"No. No she's not. She's not like Miss. Marianna. I don't think she could accept what I've done." James said, Fisk made a grunt of agreement.

"That is difficult. Finding someone who accepts you for who are you no matter what is a rare thing to find. You doubt she would?" Fisk asked.

James nodded his head slowly. "I do."

"All you can do then is hope for the best, Wesley. But I'm afraid I must add that you should also expect the worst." Fisk said and that was where the conversation ended. Neither man brought it up again.

James called Esme that night.

**A/N: Thank you for favoriting this story! I appreciate it highly! If you're interested in following me on Tumblr just search intheruinsofhislove :)**


	6. PART SIX: Never Tear Us Apart

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

**A/N: This is the playlist for the story thus far- enjoy these sweet tunes.**

**A Detail Escapes Him P1  
****Under Your Spell- Desire**

**A Detail Escapes Him P2  
****I'm On Fire- Chromatic**

**A Detail Escapes Him P3  
****Love Me Like You- Ellie Goulding**

**A Detail Escapes Him P4  
****Straight to Number One/This Magic Moment- Touch and Go and The Drifters**

**A Detail Escapes Him P5  
****Rhiannon- Fleetwood Mac**

**A Detail Escapes Him P6  
****Never Tear Us Apart- INXS**

A Detail Escapes Him

PART 6

Never Tear Us Apart

The elimination of Nobu was a long time coming. James never felt comfortable around the man and he never liked him. He respected his position but that's about it. The way he tried to order his Employer around like he was the top dog infuriated him. Maybe the man in the mask could be used more to their advantage. However James was disappointed in himself that he hadn't managed to put a bullet in the damn vigilante's head. More loose ends kept appearing every time they pulled another completely off.

James had also seen a little less of Esme. She said she needed some time alone so she left the city for a little while to visit her family. James sent a few men to follow her and to report back on her every movement. Not because he didn't trust her, he was beginning to, but because he feared for her. Before he had only needed to worry about one person, his Employer. And now he felt responsible for Esme. If anything happened to her he knew exactly what he'd do. No one would be safe from him if she was hurt and he would let them know what happened to anyone that hurt someone he cared for. His rage would be a downfall, he knew, but when used appropriately he could wield it just like any other tool.

_This is what happens when you care for someone… you can't help but imagine the tragedies that could befall them. Even if all you want to imagine is lying in bed with them forever._

James stood in Esme's apartment. She wasn't home, she was still visiting her family just like she said. He knew she had two sisters and her mother was still alive. They were all just like her. It was like kindness flowed out of them like a tap. She was warmth on a cold day and he was the cold day biting into your flesh like a polar wind. She was so much more superior to him in his eyes.

James looked through her drawers, he knew he was violating her privacy but he couldn't understand her completely just by being with her or what a background check might turn up. He needed to know what she must be like in private; what little things she might do when no one was looking.

Looking through her things brought about a new wave of curiosity and intimacy in him.

James discovered she had more books than she could have possibly read. She had an old CD case with CD's still in it, he found that it meant she was nostalgic. He found a photo album and flipped through it. Part of the album she was posing with a man. It seemed innocent at first but then there were a few pictures of the pair kissing. The man seemed more like a man Esme would be interested in than himself. There was a picture of the two together on a hike with the same dog that was in a picture frame on her mantle. The two looked very happy and James wondered why at all she was interested in a man like himself.

James was skyscrapers and fancy cars; Esme was a beat up Jeep and a dog in the backseat. Rugged sneakers as opposed to freshly shined shoes. Florals against stripes.

James wasn't the climb a mountain type. He would if his Employer asked but he would never do it for recreation. In fact there were very few things James did do for recreation. He was normally too busy with his work to think of anything else. There was another album devoted to just Esme and this man. James removed a picture from it's case and turned it over.

_July 2012, Esme and Richard. Richard? Who are you and do I have to worry? Why me instead of you? _James thought.

He replaced the picture and put the album back where he found it. He went to the bedroom. He had spent a few nights in her apartment and had seen where she kept a few things. For instance, when he first came over she kept her box of condoms in the bottom dresser drawer across the room. It implied she didn't have sex often, just like she said. Someone who did engage in sex regularly might keep them closer to the bed. But now that James had come into the picture he noted that she had moved them to the bedside table.

James opened the top drawer of her dresser. Underwear, socks, tank tops, nothing incriminating. Not that that's what he was looking for. The second drawer had her shirts, he noticed she kept shirts folded with others that should obviously be on hangers; he made a mental note to mention that to her when she returned. He fought the urge not to fold some of her things.

The bottom drawer held her pants. Nothing interesting. He went to her closet. A few dresses, the yellow sundress she had worn when they first had sex at his apartment almost a month ago stood out particularly to him, he leaned forward and it smelled perfectly of her. There was a small shelf behind the dresses and a black lock case was in the center. James knew a gun case when he saw one and the fact that she did have one surprised him. She didn't seem the gun toting type.

There was nothing in her past that he had discovered that had made him think of her as owning a gun. But he knew there were some things you couldn't get from paper.

Looking through her things he became more and more aware of the type of woman she was. She was the dog owning, going on hikes with her partner type of woman. James wasn't that at all. He liked numbers and schedules and everything being timed down to the last minute. He liked being prepared for everything. Esme wasn't that kind of person. She was the pick up and leave and go have an adventure type of woman. She seemed to feel things on a deeper level than him.

Esme was empathetic and he just wasn't or maybe he wasn't as empathetic as she. James understood emotion and appreciated emotions to a degree but for the most part he was capable of keeping his own in check. But she brought them out of him. Like she turned on a water faucet in him and broke it and now all the water gushed out like a spring. She had broken him in a way. When he wasn't with her he almost detested the way she made him feel and when he was with her he couldn't imagine not feeling the way he did. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, like a moth. It made him feel weak.

It was like he was caught in a storm and when she appeared he was in the eye of a great hurricane. With her he was calm and peaceful and when he was away things seemed to crash into him again and again. Before she had come along he had never complained but now she was showing him a life he could have… but that was impossible.

James was a realist after all. He knew who he was and he knew in the end no amount of Esme could completely change him. And if he was being honest with himself he didn't really want to change.

XxX

When Esme returned James was still at her apartment. He was sitting on the sofa flipping through an old magazine from three years ago.

_Does she throw anything away? _

"How did you get in?" Esme asked when she noticed him, she was startled for a moment. He got up to help her with her bags. "You left the door unlocked." James lied, but she didn't question him. Either she didn't believe him and didn't want to know how he got in or she did believe him.

"What's up?" Esme asked removing her jacket. She wore a pretty long sleeve thermal shirt with a floral pattern of pink roses and a frilly white skirt with knee high socks. She looked very much like a girl and not like a woman. James still found himself quite attracted to her even if she did seem girlish at times.

"Nothing. I, I just… wanted to welcome you home." James said, he offered a warm smile but he could feel the tension rising in the room. This wasn't the type of thing men like him did. He didn't normally greet women who he was sleeping with when they returned from out of town. This was something a… boyfriend would do. And James wasn't going to be calling himself her boyfriend. He was too old for that and besides he felt what they had was deeper than any label could make it.

"Well, hi!" Esme said and she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Are you hungry? I am! I could make you something or maybe we could, I don't know, go out? You look like you need to see the sunlight." Esme joked.

_I think I've seen too much…_

"No. I have to go actually." James lied. He couldn't stop himself now, the lies were just coming out of him like darts being thrown at a board. He hadn't lied to her before. They were tiny lies… they didn't mean anything.

_So why do I feel trapped by them?_

"Oh. Okay. I'll see you then?" Esme asked and the tension got thicker, like a fog. He felt like he was choking on nothing. He took a deep breath and began walking towards the door. When he reached out his hand was shaking.

_No. No. Not now!_

Another panic attack- especially one in Esme's presence- was not something he could allow to happen. But she had seen the look on his face and somehow knew what to do.

"Hey, hey it's okay." Esme said, her voice sounded far away but she was right next to him. She reached for his face and made a "shhing" sound. "Sit, sit down." Esme told him and he leaned back against the door and sat down and she cradled his head in her hands.

"Tell me what's wrong. I'm not going anywhere." Esme said but when she said that something inside him snapped. He grabbed her arms a little harder than he meant to. Esme gasped and out of instinct tried to jerk away but he wouldn't let her go.

"If you knew," James began. "What I'm capable of you wouldn't be here right now." James' voice was threatening and he knew he was scaring her. Esme tried to pull away again. He noted that her eyes darted towards her bedroom for a split second, she was thinking about the gun.

James released her and she stood up and backed as far away from him as possible. He remained on the floor.

"I can't even lie to you without a panic attack. I lie every day to dozens of people. It's become a part of me," James didn't know why but he suddenly felt like he was in a confessional. Like he could spill every dirty rotten secret he owned. And he was using Esme as a vessel for those confessions. This was either the beginning of some new territory for them or the end of what was something that James would secretly cherish for the rest of his life.

"I'm not a good man, Esme," James said composing himself a little more. Esme's eyes had become glassy from unshed tears. He knew she was frightened but he couldn't stop.

"I've done… terrible things. And I don't care. I don't lose sleep over it and I'm not haunted by any of it. I've done things in the name of the greater good but honestly I couldn't care less who got hurt by my actions. And even with you, you the epitome of all things good, I still don't care who I've hurt. Except I do care if I hurt you. I can't explain it. I didn't want you, a part of me still doesn't, a part of me wants to walk out this door and never have to see you again but I can't… I can't let you go." James stood up and walked towards her slowly.

The unshed tears were now very shed indeed. Spilling down her cheeks like the saddest little waterfall he had ever seen.

"With you I don't think I could be a better man but I think I could be happy as strange as that sounds. And there lies the terrible truth: that I would be happy and you wouldn't be." James reached out and touched her cheek, she slightly moved her face away but he didn't stop.

"I've never… been in love, Esme," James went on. "Honestly, sometimes the whole notion of love is very… silly to me. But I've seen what it can do for a person. The companionship can be fulfilling in ways I was never aware of. I never want to be parted from you but I'm never going to change so I won't make promises that I will. My life has a timetable on it, an expiration date. I'm considered to be one of the worst types of men. Could you still love someone like me?" James asked her, now fully cupping her small tear stained face.

Esme took a couple deep breaths. She pulled away from him and he let her.

"I… I don't understand anything you've just told me. What… what kind of things have you done?" Esme asked him. James felt very cold on the inside.

"Have you ever ki-killed someone?" Esme asked, stuttering over her words. James didn't need to answer or nod his head. He simply stared blankly at her, stoic. She gasped and put a hand over her mouth, looking at him like he was an intruder; like she had never seen him before. In a way it was true. She had never seen this side of him the true side.

James wanted to go to her and hold her but he could feel who he was before he met her clawing it's way back inside him. It was telling him to leave, to hurt her emotionally and physically. Hurt her to the point where she would never want to see him again.

Esme was an angel. Not in the biblical sense, James didn't believe in God. But he did believe in extraordinary people with amazing abilities that sometimes defied his usually cynical nature. Esme was one of those people he decided. She was an angel without wings, a mortal being put on this earth for him. To pull him from the darkness that he didn't realize he was even in. But he had plans of his own. He wanted to drag this pure angel into the darkness with him like Hades. He wanted her in every single way. He wanted to bathe himself in her light and swallow it.

James wanted her very soul.

James somehow managed to get her to let him carry her to her bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and removed her shoes and socks. She was shaking.

"I don't expect you to want me," James began, coldly. "But I can't leave you. I want to but I can't. You won't have to see me but know I will be near. If you need me I'll never not answer for you. I won't say I love you because I think that would only hurt you more. Goodbye, Esme. I'll see you." James leaned down and kissed her forehead and he thought that would be the end of it. James predicted she would never want to see him again and that he would have to spend the rest of his days looking after her from afar.

That was fine. But now she was in his blood, his taste buds, his heartbeat and ear drums. Every corner he turned he thought he saw her face and every time he looked into someone else's eyes he could see hers, those two different colored eyes; fire and ice. Love and lust. Peace and war. Devotion and hate. Her face had replaced everyone around him like a strange dream.

James went to sit up but she grabbed his hand.

"Have you ever… wanted to kill me?" Esme asked, her voice fearful and shaky. James shook his head and moved closer to her, turning her face towards his. He clasped his fingers with hers.

"I've never _wanted _to kill anyone. I don't spend my free time thinking of different ways to murder people. The few times I have pulled a trigger have been just that, few. And they were terrible people, Esme. I know that's not an excuse but I've given the order for murder more than I have acted it out personally." James knew this probably wasn't comforting to her at all but it was the truth. And as long as he was back to the truth that's all that mattered.

"I love you, James." Esme said suddenly and he felt his new awakened self burst with happiness, but the old James still clung to him like a disease. Like a cough you could never shake. The part of himself he wanted to get back to and the new part he wanted to beat out of himself. He was truly a man at war within himself.

James' heart clenched and he didn't know what to say.

"I didn't think I could love a man so quickly," Esme began. "But here you are. And you're telling me you've given the order to have people killed. You're… you're a monster." Esme said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. James nodded his head.

"That's true. I am. I can admit that I am. But… even monsters can want a happy ending." James said, he brushed her tears from her face.

"How can you say that? How can you expect to deserve one with everything you've done? How can you act like you care so deeply for me and then expect me to accept you for… for what you are? Do you know how horrible this is for me?" Esme asked him, her voice was quiet now.

James leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head. He could crush her skull before she could blink, not that he would or wanted to.

"Like I said, you don't have to be with me. But I'll never let you go. Even if we both live to be old and grey and senile you'll always know that somewhere I am out there watching over you. No matter what. Even if you never hear from me again, I'll be there. Your… guardian monster." James promised her and he knew he would.

"You do love me, don't you?" Esme asked. But James couldn't answer that.

"You do. Why can't you say it?" Esme leaned up her face close to his.

James suddenly pressed his mouth to hers, delving into her mouth with his tongue cutting her off. Esme pushed against his chest but at the same time returned his kiss. He could feel her battling within herself. He could feel her heartbeat on his tongue. They were in each other's veins now, constantly battling back and forth. An ever constant "will they won't they".

James pushed her legs apart and shifted in between them.

"We can't," Esme panted pulling her mouth from his. James ignored her, pressing kisses to her exposed pale throat. Esme moaned and fisted his suit in her hands. He pressed his cock against her core, feeling how warm she was there. "We are." James said and he slid his hand up her shirt squeezing her round breast. She stopped struggling and began submitting.

"Do you still want me?" James asked pulling away from her to look into her eyes. Esme brushed his hair with her hand, her fingernails soothing his scalp. "Yes." Esme said licking her lips. And that's all James needed. He wanted to bottle her tears and throw them away, he never wanted her to cry again.

James moved down her body exposing her stomach and kissing it gently. He pushed her skirt up over her thighs and roughly yanked down her panties throwing them behind him.

"You- you don't-" Esme began but James was already on her, licking her and rubbing her with his fingers. She choked out a gasp and he found she was getting wetter by the second. He parted her folds and thrust his tongue inside her. He manouvered her legs so that they were over his shoulders.

"Oh… oh fuck, James, yes… yes." Esme moaned loudly. James rubbed her clit with his thumb, enjoying the sounds she made but loving her taste even more. He never wanted to be rid of her scent. It was like eating wet fire and loving the burn it left on your tongue.

"It's… it's wrong, it's so wrong." Esme whimpered, he figured she was talking to herself. He didn't care how wrong it was, they were both addicted to each other.

James pulled away for a moment and blew gently on her aching core. She whimpered even more and he smirked. "Are you going to come?" James asked and she nodded her head and he kept flicking her clit, pressing two fingers inside her moving them in out and quickly.

When she did come it was beautiful and James nearly forgot to please himself. She was panting and delirious when he entered her but it gave her a second wind. She grasped his arms as he fucked her. After a few more thrusts he moved out of her and turned her onto her stomach, propping her up on her knees and pulling her back against his chest before entering her again.

James held her with his arms around her ribcage. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest beating in tandem with his own.

"Oh… please- hard-harder." Esme moaned and James wrapped her arms around her back and held them and thrust harder into her aching body. It was like she was a warm spring day and he was the bitter cold of the night. He fucked her and fucked her until she was panting against the sheets. He came and laid out beside her, pulling her to him. His suit was soaked in his sweat, thankfully he always kept a spare in the car.

Esme was still panting when she passed out. James removed her skirt from her body and found her a little white nightgown. She was practically still asleep when he dressed her in it. He took a damp cloth and wiped down parts of her body. When he came to the area between her legs he noted the dried stickiness. He realized they hadn't used a condom.

_No matter. There are ways around that._

James dabbed at her legs and when he was finished he changed into just his shirt and boxers before getting into bed with her. He kissed her shoulder like he always did and turned out the light.

**A/N: Hope you're still enjoying the story whoever YOU are. Follow me on Tumblr at intheruinsofhislove! **


	7. PART SEVEN: Songs My Mother Taught Me

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

**A/N: This chapter (PART) is going to be from Esme's POV.**

A Detail Escapes Him

PART SEVEN

Songs My Mother Taught Me

******Esme was alone in her apartment looking at her bed. The bed was made. She had made and unmade it several times already but it was never quite right. Something always seemed… wrong. She knew deep down what was wrong. ****_James_****had been there. He had covered her and her bed and her apartment in… ****_him. _****And she wanted to be rid of it but she wanted to dive into. He was the darkest parts of the water. You could never quite see the bottom, he was the sea. Vast, uncharted and completely alien to her. **

Suddenly stricken with an irrational rage she grabbed the blankets and sheets and ripped them from her bed. Kicking and yelling she wanted him gone until her foot caught on the blankets and she fell, landing on the hardwood floors, knocking her elbow harshly.

But Esme didn't cry from the pain in her elbow. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Her whole world had been ripped in half. The man she had fallen head over her heels for confessed he was a killer. That he had ordered people killed. Like he was playing God and Esme was just a small player in his little game of horrors. She felt plucked from her world and placed somewhere she didn't belong with people speaking a language she didn't understand.

Esme knew this was all too real. She wasn't foolish enough to think it was a bad dream. Her nightmares were never this real.

As Esme sat on the floor crying she felt her fingers reach for something under the bed.

_Mama…_

Esme gripped the violin case and pulled it from underneath her bed. She hadn't played since Richard died five years ago. She had been planning on telling James about Richard. But now it seemed moot.

Esme's mother had insisted her daughters each learn an instrument. Esme had chosen the violin, it always sounded so tragic. And she loved playing the tragic songs best. She felt most connected to her own humanity when she played them like she could feel the pain in the composer's heart.

Esme stood in front of her mirror, she plucked the strings and ran the bow over them. She took a deep breath and hit the strings with a blind furious rage she hadn't felt in years. The chords and melodies flew out of her, she could almost see them. Like a doctor wielding a scalpel she tried cutting _him_ out of her.

_Let go of me… please, I can't breathe._

But Esme kept playing. She closed her eyes and pictured Richard on the top of the mountain they climbed just days before he died. They had been so happy together. A careless, free spirited couple with their whole lives ahead of them. They had no idea of the tragedy that was to come to them and that tragedy would follow Esme forever.

As Esme played she could picture herself the day she got the call.

_Car accident._

Richard had died instantly and that was it. No goodbyes nothing. Like someone snapped their fingers and in he was in her world one minute and gone the next. It was so cruel and still Esme believed it was so unfair, she didn't care how childish it sounded. People lose loved ones every day, she knew this, but this was her someone. Her lover, her friend, her companion, her everything. And when he wasn't there she never thought she would find something to fill that void again. She owned his loss.

Esme hadn't been able to leave the house or get into a car without having an anxiety attack for months. She almost lost her business and then she and Richard's dog had to be put down. And one of the worst parts… the reason she had pursued James was because that had been her dog's name. In her naivety she thought it was a sign from Richard to move on, that it would be okay and that he would always be with her. But now she realized it must have been a trick from the Devil.

James wasn't her type at all. His kind were usually too snobby for her liking. The way they looked down their noses at her made her want to punch them in the face. Esme hadn't grown up poor, she had been fairly privileged. Her parents had been able to send herself and her two sisters to college and retire. She had never been the poor girl. But her parents had taught her the value of people more than money. The value of a person's nature and taught her to be humble instead of greedy.

Esme's fingers hurt and were sore from her playing. But she kept on going.

Esme asked herself all the time since meeting James, _how did I fall for a man like that? _And Esme still had no answers to give herself. She wanted to know more than anything why it had to be him… _why him? _Was there a reason for it? Did fate hate her? What terrible thing had she done in her life that made Life think this would be so funny?

Her song ended… she put the violin away back under her bed where it belonged. In the past. She laid down on her messed up bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. She could still smell him. Could he smell her? She rolled over and breathed in the sheets. She couldn't describe his scent… but it engulfed her like a cloud of smoke.

The worst part of loving James was that she didn't have a say. She didn't want to end up loving him. She thought maybe sleeping with him would get him out of her system but it did just the opposite. He got into her DNA, her very soul. Her heart ached like it was cracked in thousands of pieces. Her heart was like a puzzle with hundreds of missing pieces. She was incomplete with or without him. And she would never be free of him. He told her just that. He would remain buried in the shadows. She cried for him like he had died and in a way a part of him had to her and she mourned the man she had fallen for. He was like a ghost, haunting her. His soul a shadow itself, she could feel him and it.

It was as if they were entwined in some kind of strange maze. Sometimes meeting and then being separated, only their voices to guide them towards each other again. But he was so far away now. Lost somewhere else in the maze leaving her to sit and hope that he would find her and at the same time hoping he would leave her isolated within the belly of the maze, alone forever.

_Love doesn't care who it hurts, _she thought. _It needs to be fed, like a fire. It needs to eat, to breathe to live. And we're the poor victims it grinds within it's teeth. Chewing and chewing until there's nothing left of ourselves to give and even then Love is not satisfied. He's a man beyond saving… I can't save him. I can't save him. I can't save-_

There was a knock at the door jolting Esme from her thoughts. She sat straight up. She recognized that knock. Another knock. Another. Then… the door clicked. She hadn't locked it again.

"Esme?" His voice sent a chill up her spine, her stomach fluttered. Her heart hammered like a bird flapping it's wings harshly.

She didn't speak. She heard him in the kitchen and then his shadowy presence filled up the doorframe.

"Esme?" James said again, taking note of the messy bed. She could only stare at him. He even looked like a ghost. Like a stranger from a dream that you know is one person but looks completely different. She wanted to throw him out… but wouldn't, she couldn't.

_Damn your heart, he'll burn you alive…_

James approached her slowly. Without thinking she got up from the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. She didn't understand why she did it. How could she trust him after everything he had told her? She didn't but she needed him. Maybe she could hold onto the fantasy of him a little bit longer. This was his true face after all. He didn't go home and take one off. This was who he was.

"I've been thinking," James began, running his fingers through her short hair. "Work will be… should be, quieting down considerably in the future. I can't name a precise date but things are looking well. Perhaps I could… get away, for a while." James finished.

Esme tensed and she knew he felt it because his fingers stopped moving through her hair.

"We could go away together. Anywhere. I don't care how remote or how populated. But we will." James said, he sounded like he was making her a promise and she didn't want that anymore. She just wanted the man she fell in love with back… but he wasn't there anymore. The only thing she could see when she at him was this faceless man who caused so much pain and yet he yearned to be loved. Even if he would never admit it, he needed to be loved.

"I… I want to believe you, James." Esme said and she pulled away from him a little bit. "Everything inside me is… it's so difficult to say." Esme spoke slowly and tried to keep her tears at bay but she knew what she looked like. She had been crying for a long time now.

"Please," James said softly. "No more tears for me."

Esme pushed him away suddenly and smacked him nearly knocking the glasses off his face. His fists clenched but he backed away from her.

"No more tears?" Esme said her voice raising. "No more-... fuck you! You did this. Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?" Esme brushed past him and paced the living room, he followed.

"Do you expect me to just turn it off like a switch? Just pretend you're not what you've said you are? I guess I'm a little more human than you." Esme said and she realized she might have pushed him too far. His jaw clenched and his eye twitched slightly. He was holding back, a lot.

"I was happy without you," Esme went on. "Lonely, but I was happy. I only had me to look after. And now I want to smack you and love you. I want to push you out a window but I want to save you but… you're beyond saving. You brought me into this. I didn't want to. I didn't ask for any of this. It's like you've… made a home inside me. And I hate myself for not being able to imagine my life without you now. How good can I be if I let myself fall in love with someone like you?"

James seemed to relax but she saw something in his eyes and she thought she might be imagining it. He looked like he might… cry?

"I… I…" James couldn't speak. He tried, he really did. More than once but the words didn't seem to be able to come out.

Esme's heart screeched to go to him, to love him and care for him. But she couldn't… she couldn't… could she?

And Esme's resolved snapped like a rubber band when the first precious tear fell down his cheek and he tried to stop it. He covered his face, his hands running under his glasses as his body jerked with a sob.

Esme did rush to him. She pulled him to her. He gripped her tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry." He whispered so quietly that if she hadn't been so close she wouldn't have heard it.

"No. No I'm sorry." Esme said back to him so quickly she couldn't believe it. "This isn't a trick, is it? Tell me you're not lying." Esme said pulling back and pulling his hands from his face. He wasn't lying. He didn't look well at all. Like he hadn't slept in days, it had been that long since she'd seen him.

"I swear- I know you can't trust me. I know I've tortured you long enough. But… but this is real. This is a side of me no one, _no one Esme, _has seen. And I don't- I don't know what I can do. I don't know how to fix… _us._" James said, more tears falling down his cheeks. His face looked like an open wound, kind of like it reflected their relationship. Swollen, hurt, wet and unsure and bloodied. Like a bruise you keep hitting over and over again, never given time to fully heal.

"Tell me what to do." James begged her. Esme didn't know what to say to make him feel better. She thought of the best thing she could.

"Just… do your job. We'll figure the rest out later." Esme said to him, stroking the back of his neck with her hand, running her fingers through his hair like she always did. It seemed to calm him down some.

"I can't make you happy, can I?" James said sadly as she moved away from him, her back facing him. She paused.

"I have no idea, James. But you'll try, I know you will." Esme said before going back into her bedroom. She waited for him to follow.

_Please leave but please hold me. Swallow me up into the tornado that is you and suffocate me in the wind of your twisted idea of love. You've already broken me… what's a little more?_

James did follow.

**A/N: Different kind of chapter, I wanted to do at least one from Esme's POV. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for the reviews thus far, you can follow me on Tumblr by searching intheruinsofhislove ! By the way, the chapter title is taken from my favorite piece of classical music. **


	8. PART EIGHT: Say Something

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

A Detail Escapes Him

PART EIGHT

Say Something

_You can't live with regrets. They'll eat you alive…_

The moment the first bullet entered James' body his first thought was not of his Mr. Fisk or all of the terrible things he'd done, he thought of Esme instead.

As sudden and shocking as the gunfire and the feeling of flesh being torn and burned away had been he didn't see Karen Page's face pulling the trigger anymore, he saw Esme. In those little moments in between the first shot and the next that preceded it seemed to last forever.

Death never really did frighten him. He knew from very early on he wouldn't live to be an old man.

And he seemed to almost go numb, at least his mind did… what little life he had left in him as he slumped in his chair seemed to be stuck on some kind of strange repetitive loop. Like a movie reel that was stuck, skipping and replaying, skipping and jerking then replaying from the beginning again…

James saw Esme's hands, those little pyro hands capable of so much healing and so much fire. He could see her clearly but she was fading, her smile never fading though. He could taste her on his tongue and feel her body in his hands. And he could smell her. It was so strong it was as if she were standing right in front him. Like he was burning alive within it...

_That's it… I guess I just… wait… wait… wait… wait…_

ONE DAY EARLIER…

James had just finished a rather tiring meeting with his Employer's tailor, Mr. Potter. He needed his Employer's tux ready for tomorrow evening for the benefit. It was an extremely important night and James was focused entirely on it. So much so that he had forgotten to call Esme. When he checked his phone there were no texts from her or missed calls. He expected that.

"_Hope for the best but… expect the worst." _His Employer had told him. James should have listened more closely. He should have read between the lines when his Employer basically told him to call it off then and there and not to wait. But James had been a fool thinking he could have Esme and be the same man.

What was he left with now? Memories… the only memories that haunted him now were of her. Those peaceful moments he cherished so much when he didn't think he needed peace in the first place. He thought he was a man completely unattached except to one thing: the job. His job. His duty to his Employer. All of that seemed… incomplete without her. He didn't realize how incomplete, or trivial, his life seemed now that she faded further and further away from him.

There was no manual to life, James had learned that long ago, and there were no instructions as how to maneuver through life without marring the people around you with your demons. But James had thought he had no demons until he created one. His little pyro… his girl. His woman. But she wasn't his and yet she was at the same time. They had branded each other with their own souls and left a taste of each other in one another's mouths.

James couldn't wash her off or delete her from his memory. She was imprinted into his very being. Everything that made him who he was, was now owned by another person. And he had sold it willingly.

And now everywhere he went he had to force himself not to think of her.

James was telling the truth to Esme when he told her he had never been in love before. He had been attracted and had simple flings with women but he had never allowed himself to love before. Like he had said, he thought it was often a silly notion.

But only to himself would James ever truly admit to the depth of his feelings for Esme. And he begrudgingly called it love. But their love- _his love_\- wasn't flowers or romantic dates or surprise gifts or making love under the stars or kissing in the rain. His love was bitter, cold, hard and as fragile as a leaf in a breeze. He did need to be loved… and it took him this long and this hard to figure it out. But he only wanted to be loved by one person.

James never believed in wishing for something so hard you hoped it came true; he was a realist after all. But he found himself wishing she hadn't stopped him from getting hit by that car. He imagined it… he imagined the car hitting him and sending him into his next journey, death. Or he imagined the car paralyzing him. Or to be less dramatic, he imagined if he had left his appointment that day a little earlier or perhaps even later.

Or was fate real? Were they always meant to collide with one another? Was he set on this path from the moment he was born? If that was true then maybe his life could have been different-

But James couldn't think that way. He wouldn't allow himself these wishful fantasies. He had to force himself to stop thinking of what could have been and live now. After all, he knew how short his life could be.

_But you still want her. You still think there could be a way to live this life with her. Maybe you do deserve this. But she's right... You are a monster. And you could live the rest of your life knowing that and still be able to sleep at night. _

James took out his phone and dialed Esme's number.

XxX

Esme knew she shouldn't be here. It was a terrible idea. But that didn't stop her from getting into the black SUV that James had sent for her. She arrived at his apartment and she nearly ran after she got out of the car. Would the driver chase after her? Part fear and part wanting to see him again drove her into the building. She took deep breaths as the elevator climbed higher and higher towards it's destination.

_What am I doing? _

The doors slid open and she walked down the hallway towards his door. She knocked lightly, her hand shaking a little. The door opened and there he stood, a gentle smile on his face. And for a moment Esme saw the man she met on the street. He had been so welcoming, so cute. She had wanted to grab him by his tie right there and mess up every inch of his perfectly planned suit.

"Thank you for coming." James said as she stepped inside.

Esme smiled as she noticed the table set for two. He had dimmed the lights and the whole apartment had a warm yellowish glow to it. It was like false fire.

"I know you wanted to have a proper date one day," James began as he walked towards the kitchen and she followed him. The kitchen smelled lovely.

_He's… cooking? _

This James was the James she had wanted to know and had got to know too late. But it was still romantic in a strange sort of way. She almost forgot how terrified of him she had become.

"But… well this is the best I can do at a moment's notice. I hope you like pasta." James said and Esme sat on a kitchen stool by the counter and watched him as he cooked. She took in his rolled up sleeves and his hair was a little messy, he looked… so normal.

Esme didn't say much as she watched him cook. They both seemed comfortable with the silence. What else was there to say anyway?

"Is this the man you want me to be?" James asked her suddenly, his voice low and calm. Esme's eyes darted around the room trying to look at anything but him. She played with a strand of string on her skirt.

"It's the man I thought I had met." Esme replied honestly. "Are you pretending?" She asked him. James shook his head.

"I never pretended with you. To be perfectly honest I wasn't fully aware of this part of myself until I met you. That sounds-"

"Corny?" Esme suggested, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her mouth.

James shrugged.

"You made me… wake up. I know that sounds just as... _corny_ as the first thing I said but that's the only way I can describe it." James said and he turned to drain the pasta.

Esme got up from her stool and leaned against the countertop next to him.

"What about me made you wake up?" Esme asked him. James shook the strainer gently and Esme watched the pasta dance inside the bowl.

"I don't know. You're not really my type." James said then realized how bad that sounded. "No, no, I mean… hell. You're just the opposite of what I normally look for in a woman. When I am looking." James finished. Esme giggled. She thought he was so adorable in that moment.

XxX

James felt like an asshole.

_But it does feel good to hear her laugh._

"I just… you're messy and never throw anything away. You set things on fire for a living. You love dogs and visiting your family. I like spreadsheets and-"

Esme put a hand on his wrist and he looked at her.

"It's okay, James. You're not really my type either. But here we are. Not each other's types and still… still in this together. Life is like that I guess." Esme said warmly.

James couldn't get enough of her eyes. He would never see another pair like them, even if he met someone who had the same condition as her. They were so unique in their warmth and kindness. James had thought kindness and tears were both weaknesses. But after knowing Esme he realized just how valuable both of them were and what they said about a person's strength. Her kindness was a shield against hate and her tears were a sign of love and caring. Both things James now craved from her.

They sat and ate quietly.

"What's your favorite color?" Esme asked him.

"I don't have one." He answered.

"Oh come on, everyone likes at least one more than the other." Esme challenged.

James shrugged and shook his head.

"If I said your eyes would that be corny too?" He asked her, completely serious. Esme blushed a little.

"That's such a used line. But I'll take it. Although technically that's two favorite colors." Esme said pushing her empty plate away from her. James sighed.

They both knew what this was. It was a goodbye dinner. And James wanted to make it last as long as possible. He could pretend that it wasn't what it was that it was a date at his apartment and she wouldn't be gone from his life forever by the end of it.

"What about you?" James asked. Esme didn't keep him waiting long.

"Blue." Esme said and she played with her napkin a little. "It's so warm and calm. It makes me happy. I once painted this beautiful piece with all different kinds of blues in it and then I set it on fire," James laughed. "No, listen! That's where it all started, the whole fire thing. It was so beautiful and I accidentally set it on fire and the aftermath was... it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Like someone had set the oceans on fire and put it out with the sky. It was this complex mixture of calmness and burning uncontrollable… _fury_."

James wanted to see this painting that had inspired her so much but he knew he never would. His own version, painted inside his head, would have to suffice.

"And who is Richard?" James asked, he knew he had given himself up with that question and he did on purpose. Now she would know he went through her photo albums at least.

Esme took a sip of her wine and ran a hand through her hair.

"Richard. He was… he was my boyfriend. He… died a few years ago in a car accident. It was my fault." Esme said and he could see her eyes tearing up again but she still had a strange smile on her face.

Esme went on.

"People… people will say it's not your fault but he wouldn't have been out if it wasn't for me. We had a fight because I told him I wouldn't marry him. I just didn't see why we had to change our whole relationship and get married. I loved the way we were. But he kept asking and asking and I finally told him no. He said that if I didn't want to marry him then there was no point being together and he left. I knew in my heart he'd be back. He had to come back, you know? You're not thinking when someone you care about steps out the door that you'll never see them again. You're thinking, I'll see them in a little bit.

"And then the hours turned into more hours and more and… he'd been dead while I was watching episodes of Friends on the couch cuddling with our dog. I was over our fight. I was waiting for him in this stupid little nightie expecting him to walk through the door and have great make up sex. And instead… he died angry at me. He died hating me. He died thinking… _that bitch doesn't love me_." Esme finally broke down and James was already by her side holding her.

James didn't say anything to her he just held her. There was nothing he could say that someone else hadn't already said a thousand times before.

_Words are meaningless when you're broken._

"I've never told anyone about the fight before. And the worst part of all of this James? It turns out he… wasn't the love of my life." Esme said and she cupped his face in her hands. "No. I never thought I could love anyone more than Richard. And yet here you are, living and breathing in my hands and I can't think of a time when I was more in love with someone. I hate you for that, for taking Richard's place. And I can't stand the thought of not being with you." Esme said, confessing to him as he had confessed to her.

James felt like a man standing under a falling piano; but he wasn't running for cover. He wanted to be crushed. He wanted to remain a vessel for her to pour out everything that frightened her and haunted her. He wanted to be that man for her.

But he knew he couldn't.

"Come with me." James said and he helped her stand and he wrapped her in his coat and walked with her to the balcony. They stood outside, she shivered slightly in the cool air.

Their breath fusing as one thin cloud around them.

"What I said about letting you go but always being near… that's not fair to you. You deserve peace, Esme. You deserve-"

"James don't-"

"No, Esme, listen," James said gently. "You don't deserve a man that couldn't make you happy. Knowing the things you know about me, it would drive you crazy. And I can't watch that. I can't watch the person I care for most crumble under the weight of my past, present and future. You deserve a man- _need_ a man- that can say he wants to give the world even though you know he can't and still love him for it. I want you to be with a man you're not ashamed of. Because I know you are ashamed of me. And I accept that." James couldn't think of anything else to say.

They were silent.

But after a minute or two Esme reached up and kissed him. He could taste the saltiness of her tears from earlier. He tasted her soul and her heart. He tasted that sweet burning fire that lasted so long on his tongue after he was parted from her. They pulled away from each other but he still held her close.

"It's for the best." James said but Esme kissed him again. He pulled away but couldn't deny her when he saw that look. The look that said, _I know we're both doomed. And I don't care. _

"Don't give up on me, James. I'm stronger than I look." Esme said sweetly. James smiled.

"Let's go inside." He whispered. Esme followed him. James went into the kitchen and she stayed in the living room. He poured another glass of wine for her and dropped the little white pill into her drink and let it dissolve. He hated himself for the first time in his life when he watched the pill disappear into the red liquid.

James found her sitting on the couch. He handed her the glass and finished his from earlier. He sat beside her and watched as she raised the glass to her lips. Those eyes and face so trusting. So in love with him. He almost stopped her. He put his arm around her and let her relax against him.

_Like a lamb to the slaughter..._

James leaned down and kissed her. Then he saw the look on her face. She brought a hand up to her face. Her hands began shaking and she tried to get up.

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you." James assured her. Esme struggled a little.

"Wha- what... James?" Esme said and he felt her heart, it was racing. James held her closer looking into her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me." James whispered against her lips, kissing her one last time. He watched the light in her eyes fading and finally they closed. James kissed her forehead and her cheeks and rocked her back and forth. He arm dangled off the side of the sofa like a broken doll. She felt weightless.

And James wept quietly. Holding his little pyro doll like a child.

There was a faint whisper in the room so quiet only the dead could hear it. The words fell from him like he was a broken man…

"_I love you."_

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Only two left and honestly most of these were written ahead of time… but the last two aren't written so updates MAY be a sparse in the coming days. And I have at least three different ways I want and would like this story to end. However, how I want it to end and how it should realistically end are very different. Should I take it perhaps into the realm of AU or just stick with the source material? Any thoughts? Again, thank you for reading and the reviews, the feedback has been wonderful! You can follow me on Tumblr by searching intheruinsofhislove !**


	9. PART NINE: Comfortably Numb

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE NETFLIX SHOW DAREDEVIL OR THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY (EXCEPT FOR ESME JACOBS, SHE'S MINE) AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY SORT OF PROFIT, THIS IS WRITTEN PURELY FOR FUN.

A Detail Escapes Him

PART NINE

Comfortably Numb

(James' POV)

I said the words too late- ouch! Damn it, my chest hurt. I can't move but I can still feel the pain. My heart it's… Jesus, it's so slow. I'm not speaking. I know that. I'm thinking though. Funny, that I'm thinking of all of this while I die.

It could all get cut off at any moment. My brain firing off it's last bits of energy and this is what I'm left with. A blackness I can and can't see. No white light, huh? Fine. I didn't think there would be one. I find it strange this is how I go… Karen Page. My arrogance was a downfall and I always knew it would be.

I guess if I do have a regret, which I really don't, but if I did it would be letting my anger and arrogance get the better of me. I wonder, if I hadn't met Esme that day would things be different? I haven't been myself lately. Maybe because of her I was distracted and let my guard down. It wasn't Fisk I was referring to when I spoke to Miss. Page about learning to love something.

It's funny, I can still smell Esme. I'm burning in darkness and for once I'm going to let it burn me to the quick. I never fully allowed myself to give Esme everything that was me and when I showed a little bit she didn't trust me anymore. The change in her eyes was the most frightening thing I had ever experienced. Even now as I lay here dying I'm not afraid. Then again, what if I'm already dead and this is the afterlife?

What if the afterlife is you alone with yourself in a dark room contemplating everything about your life until you go mad over and over and over again? I think I'm good company but if I was my only company for… well, forever, I think I might get sick of me too.

I wouldn't get sick of Esme though. I could listen to her breathe for hours and not get bored. It would at least let me know she was still alive and… just alive. The very idea of her being anything else is a horrible prospect to me. I don't want to imagine it anymore. And I won't have to. Because if this isn't the afterlife then I won't have to worry about thinking about her anymore-

But… I do love thinking about her. I love being bothered by her. I love- I _loved _being worried about her. The feel of her hair sliding through my fingers was one of the intimate things I had ever experienced. I can still feel her hair… through my fingers that I can't move and aren't really here. I have no arms, no legs, no body for her to hold.

I do not doubt that she loved me and yet with my actions towards her she will doubt time and time again that I ever loved her.

That is my Hell. An afterlife not of my own company but the knowing that I can't tell her "No, I do love you and I always will". That is my punishment. That is my fire and brimstone that shall be forever shackled to me.

This is taking a while, isn't it?

I'm- I'm-

_Not ready._

Yes I am. I am ready. I've always known that at any moment it could end. That my life was a broken clock, sadly ticking slowly down to it's last moments. I have to be ready. I thought I was ready. What if something happens to Esme when I'm gone? I can't stop it. I'm the most helpless I've ever been and… that fucking woman, Karen Page! This is her fault. If she had just kept her fucking nose out of where it didn't belong then…

But I put the gun on the table. I didn't have to but I did. This is my doing but… I didn't pull the trigger. I might as well have, I suppose.

What about Mr. Fisk? He'll be alone. Well, not entirely alone. He has Vanessa. She'll pull through, she has to. I know she will. She is one of the strongest women I have ever met. She'll take care of him. Perhaps better than I ever could. At least she won't leave him alone like I have. Vanessa will make it, she will.

Still not entirely dead yet, mhmm? Well, I can't really think of what else I can do but wait.

I hope Esme is okay. What am I thinking? Of course she's not okay. She's probably waking up now in apartment alone and scared and hating you more than ever. She was right. I am a monster. A monster made of hate, anger and arrogance. A black heart, that's what she'll say I have. But she'll never know that I didn't know what a heart could do or endure until I met her.

The pain and suffering it can sustain emotionally is quite impressive. If I could still feel mine I guess it would be breaking. Can a heart break when you're dying? I feel… something. If I had hands in this… dark tomb I would grab my chest. Something, it's burning.

_ZINHG!_

What the fuck? Uh… is that supposed to-

_ZINHG!_

Ahh… it hurts. I thought I wasn't supposed to feel anything. What's happening? Is this it? This has to be. It has be coming. The end, everything… no, no. No! I lied… even now as I lay dying or about to fall off the edge I'm not… I'm not ready. Please, please, please… let me think of her. Let me clear my head and picture her.

Let me smell her a little bit longer, hold her. Be kinder and gentler to her. I can't let her go. Not yet. Please not yet.

It's not fair, goddamn it. It's not fucking fair. Not that I'm dying, that's inevitable. We all have to some day. That's not the unfair part. It's… it's the memory of her. It's the fact that I knew such a wonderful creature that's unfair. If I was dying without having met her this would be easier. I feel like… crying. But I can't. It's trapped in my non-existent throat, clenching and choking me.

_ZINHG!_

Stop it! I'm concentrating, for fucks sake!

_ZINHG_

_WAKE UP!_

That was a voice. It's far away but that was a voice. What? Is this where I meet the other ghosts? Who do I talk to about haunting someone?

_Don't go!_

_ZINHG_

It hurts…

_Can you hear me?_

Yes I can hear you! Stop speaking so loud.

_He's alive… barely, I don't know how this fucker is still alive but he is._

What? No I'm not. I'm very much dead.

_Get him in the van. Doctor Dayton will want this one. Be careful._

Oh, great, and if I am still kicking as they say I'm to be sold for what, spare parts?

_Relax buddy…_

Ugh, an atrocious nickname. This can't be happening. It must be the last bits of brain cells creating some elaborate scenario where I live. Alright might as well enjoy it- what the fuck is that?

_He's responsive. Good job, buddy._

Stop calling me that… infantile name! And get that fucking light out of my eyes… light? Maybe there is a bright light after all. This must be my stop then. Time to get off. Esme. Esme, think of Esme. Nothing but her. Nothing but her face. Nothing but…

_THU-THUMP-THU-THUMP…_

And just what the hell is that I'm feeling in my chest? A chest I'm not supposed to have or feel anymore? And just what the hell are you planning on doing with that thing?

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post. Honestly I was completely torn on how to end this story. I think I finally know how. Be a little more patient if you've been waiting for updates. I'm sorry if you were hoping for a longer chapter too. If you want to follow me on Tumblr you can if you search intheruinsofhislove ! **


	10. PART TEN: All For a Woman (Epilogue)

A Detail Escapes Him

PART 10

EPILOGUE

All For a Woman

Before she moved Esme had wondered, "_where do you go in this world where everything is a reminder of what could have been? We could have held hands there, had lunch there, kissed there, fought there, fucked there… where do you run when everything is keeping you in the past? No one's arms will be better than theirs. No one will love you the same."_

Esme believed selling her shop and moving to New England had been one of the best decisions she had ever made. After waking up alone and seriously pissed off after her date from a fairy tale turned into a date from hell with James, she decided she had had enough of the city life. Not hearing from helped too.

There was nothing left for her there anymore. So, she sold her shop and used the money she earned from it along with her savings to buy a little house in New England in the woods far away from everything.

Well, there was a little town thirty minutes away and she had a couple neighbors; people who liked to live decently but still slightly off the grid were the type of people that populated the area.

Esme got a new dog too. A German Shepherd she named Wyatt. She loved how peaceful her new home felt. How quiet it was. It had been a year since she left New York and she was finally starting to feel like her old self again. She had grown her hair out and dyed it dark brown, she didn't have to answer to anyone except on weekends when she would go into town and work at the local homegrown market.

During the week she would paint but she hadn't picked up the torch since New York. She just couldn't. Every time she did her hands would shake. It was as if the torch triggered something in her, like it represented so much about her past she was trying to leave behind.

And though Esme believed she had moved on from her old life it still didn't stop her from looking over her shoulder during her walks with Wyatt or when she saw someone new in town. James had made a promise to her once; that he would always be near no matter what. But he had also said he wouldn't do that to her, then again he had said a lot of things she couldn't believe she had fallen for.

James was a man, she decided, who didn't _lack _in honor. The problem was that he had too much of it. But he was also a man beyond saving. She often wondered how a man so beyond saving was the very man she had fallen for.

Esme still had nightmares. Nightmares of James watching her from a foggy beach as she drowned, her begging for him to save her. Sometimes he was the one drowning. Calling out to her that he needed her help. That she was the only person in the world who could save him. And every time she let him drown.

Maybe it was how cynical she had become that made her so malicious in her dreams. But it was only through her dreams that she could hurt him. Many times she would find herself talking out loud to herself, saying all the things she wanted to say to him. She'd call him a bastard and mother-fucker. It felt good but not as good as the real thing might feel. He wasn't around anymore and she hadn't heard from him once.

Although, the past few weeks, someone had been calling her home. Whenever she answered there was no answer on the other end. It was then that Esme kept her gun out of it's lock box at all times. She practiced shooting it more with her neighbor, Bill. He was a surly old bastard but also a kind older man living with his wife Hannah a good ten minute walk from Esme's house, a couple minutes by car.

And though Esme still had her nightmares and had a creep calling her at all hours of the day or night she still pressed on. She figured she could keep hitting rock bottom over and over and over again until she was bloody and bruised or she could climb her way to the top; yes she still had moments where she slipped but the point was she never stopped climbing. She couldn't stop climbing.

Esme wouldn't allow herself to fall again.

XxX

Summer was beautiful in New England. In fact any season there was beautiful. But Esme especially liked how summer was treating her new environment.

It was a Wednesday and Esme was walking with Wyatt along the river near her house. She was thinking of dipping in for a swim but decided against it. No matter how hot it was the water never seemed to warm up to where it was tolerable to be in.

"Alright boy, stretch your legs." Esme said letting Wyatt off his leash. He was still a young pup, only a year old. She had gotten him before she left New York. A man was selling puppies on the street and she got him for fifty bucks. Wyatt took off running ahead of her down the path. She heard him bark and saw him as he paused. He looked back and forth between herself and what was ahead of him.

Esme stopped dead in her tracks. You would too if you were looking at a ghost.

The man who could not have been anyone but James, _her _James, was standing in the path. He looked different… very different. His hair was still the same but he looked alien standing there without his perfectly pressed tailored suit. No, instead he wore blue jeans and a faded brown leather coat and a white thermal shirt and his glasses were gone.

The look on his face was… strange. He looked sad and afraid.

On instinct Esme took a step back, Wyatt followed her but didn't growl or bark. James reached out with a hand.

"Esme?" He asked only loud enough for her to hear him.

"It's you. You've… what are you doing here?" Esme asked him still stepping back a little and Wyatt continued to follow.

_I should be running._

James walked further down the path slowly. He was hesitant, she could tell and it unnerved her. He looked at her like he didn't know her.

_He doesn't know the new me. I'll put a bullet in his head if I have to._

James stopped a few feet from her. The sound of the river flowing beside them seemed to fade away and turn into a low hum.

"This is going to sound very, very crazy," James said putting his hands out defensively. "But…. I don't exactly know who you are."

Esme just stared.

"Excuse me?" Esme asked, it was all she think to ask.

James sighed and lowered his hands.

"Look, I've been looking for you. I've been tried calling when I found out where you were but I didn't know what to say over the phone. I know this is awkward but I needed to tell what I have to say in person." James said.

Esme studied him. His clothes weren't the only thing about him that was alien. It was his whole demeanor. His posture was different. The old James stood straight always looking down at everything but this James slouched slightly and acted nervous and unsure. Could it all be an act though?

"What do you mean you don't know who I am?" Esme asked him. If this was an act she wanted to see how good the whole show was.

"It's hard to explain. Most of it I don't understand myself. I just remembered you. Parts of you, things we said to each other but it's foggy. I could only make out bits and pieces. Smells, tastes, sometimes if I was lucky and concentrated hard enough I could make out an image and... I could… um, well I could taste you." James said. He was right. This was awkward in person, but she couldn't imagine him saying it over the phone and it being any less weird.

"Taste me?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows. James nodded his head looking away from her as if he were embarrassed.

"What's the last thing you remember saying to me?" Esme asked him.

After James had drugged her and she assumed had someone else take her to her apartment, when she woke she remembered only parts of their evening together. She had glimpses of him making dinner. Then she remembered feeling dizzy and the last thing she remembered him saying was "forgive me". Which she still hadn't.

Like him she could only remember bits and pieces and she was trying not to feel bad for him but it was difficult. The look in his eyes seemed genuine. And she couldn't help but feel curious.

"I remember asking you to forgive me then… I said I love you." James said. The last part Esme definitely did not remember.

"You said you loved me? You're lying. You never would have said that." Esme said crossing her arms over her chest.

"I would ask you not to use 'I' when referring to me. That person wasn't me. I don't know who he is but I'm not him and he isn't me. It's like we were split from each other but he's trying to get back." James said almost painfully.

Esme was finding it more difficult not to feel some kind of compassion for him. But it was more than that. This man was almost pathetically tragic in his whole being. James was never pathetic. She felt bad for this man, whoever he was. For he was surely not the man she had fallen in love with.

"Come back to my house. We can talk more there." Esme found herself saying. James looked up at her, relief flooded his face and he nodded his head, a simple gesture considering their history together.

The walk back to her house was very strange. He acted like he didn't know her and if he was telling the truth and wasn't lying to her then in a way they were strangers. Esme couldn't think of a reason why he would lie to this great of an extent. And he looked so different. Even his eyes looked sad, afraid… alone. How had he been living? What had happened to him?

_And where is the James I knew? Should I be grateful he's gone? Who is this imposter? _

XxX

Esme peaked out from her kitchen and spied James standing where she had left him in her home. He stood in her living room that connected to the dining room. He looked at pictures on the mantel piece and on the walls. James- the James she had known in New York- had seen all of these things before. And the old James had looked at them with a vague sense of interest. This new James actually picked up the picture, studying the frame and the people in them very closely touching the picture through the glass with a finger.

Esme watched him from the door as he sat down on her sofa then immediately stood up again. He was nervous even when he thought no one was looking. He went to the window and looked out. Was he afraid someone was watching them?

No longer able to stand spying on him she left the kitchen with two cups of water and offered him one.

James turned and accepted the cup. He drank it one gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The James she had known never would have done something so, well he probably would have called it barbaric. He handed the glass back to her and she placed it on the coffee table.

"Want to sit down?" Esme asked him and he nodded his head. They sat down on the sofa, she tried to put some distance between them.

"What do you remember?" Esme asked, she didn't know where else to start.

"It's hard," James began. "I remember a white light- but not like a 'I'm dying' white light. But... they did say I was technically dead for a while. Never said exactly how long." James said, he looked down at his hands in front of him.

"You died?" Esme asked, she was caught between processing and understanding his words and feeling overcome with the idea of him dying.

_How did he die? Was he alone? Was he afraid?_

"Apparently." James answered simply. He seemed uncomfortable talking about it. She tried to imagine what it must be like to be dead one minute and alive the next. She couldn't. Things like this didn't happen in real life after all.

"I remember more after I woke up, I guess you could say, than my life before. I remember being in a lot of pain. I remember the doctor. Dr. Francine Dayton. I learned to hate that woman very quickly." James said, he looked straight ahead, one of his hands curling into a fist.

"But there was one single constant through the pain and the questioning and the… abysmal torture," James said, and in that moment she thought she heard his old voice again. His eyes slowly made their way towards her. They traveled across her face and her then settled on her hands. He reached out and lifted both of them in his bigger ones. "You," James said quietly. "Your… everything remained. I kept telling myself I needed to get back to you whoever you were. And if I ever got out of whatever hell I was in that I would find you. I don't even really know who you are. I just remember all of these feelings. Like you've left an imprint of yourself in me."

Esme took a deep breath and squeezed his hands.

"Do you remember… everything?" Esme asked, it took him a second or two to figure out what she meant and the man actually blushed. Esme suddenly felt a flutter of butterflies throughout herself.

"Not in great detail but… there are some images." James said and then their eyes locked like a deadbolt and Esme knew she was lost.

_Oh no you don't. Don't fall for those sad puppy dog eyes. Don't-_

But it was a little late.

Esme knew she was the one to make the first move. She pressed her lips to his gently. He didn't move at first. Then they slowly began to respond. Their fingers clasping together briefly before he ran his hand down her palm to her wrist to her face. He gripped her cheek gently with his hand, tilting her head slightly to kiss her better.

James didn't press too much or too little. His kissing was so familiar and yet it was very different. He didn't seem as controlling or demanding. He wasn't trying to dominate her. He was trying to be gentle with her. Esme liked her sex a little rough sometimes and James had met those needs but suddenly Esme didn't want that. She wanted to take care of this man who was and wasn't James.

This man was a stranger and an old friend; an imposter and a lover wrapped all in one.

James pulled away taking a deep breath. He reached down and took her hands in his and placed them behind his head. As if no time had passed at all Esme ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. James sighed against her cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned against her. She wrapped her arm around him and leaned back against the sofa with him.

"Sleep." Esme whispered to him. He looked up at her for a minute or two before finally closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep, all the while Esme stroked his hair and neck. He faded away like he hadn't slept in years.

"Where did you come from?" Esme asked his sleeping form. It was then that Esme noticed the scar on his chin, it was small maybe an inch or two long but it looked deep. Then she noticed the scars on his neck, they were small like the one on his chin but there were many.

"You poor man, what did they do to you?" Esme said quietly to herself.

XxX

When Twelve woke up he was startled awake. His heart felt like it had stopped, again. He felt a warmth beside him and looked down.

_It was real. Not a dream this time. _

Twelve stroked Esme's perfect little cheek. He wished she was awake so he could look at her eyes a little longer. Those strange eyes that were so familiar. He gently laid her out on the sofa and removed himself from it and began making sure the house was securely locked. After that close call in Boston he had to be more careful. They obviously knew he was missing and would stop at nothing to get to him. Thankfully he had disconnected his GPS, it wasn't hard finding it. But that didn't mean there weren't other ways to find him.

Twelve went to the bathroom and flipped on the light. He studied his face in the mirror. He had gotten used to this face but it was still strange to see. He tried to avoid mirrors and reflective surfaces like a vampire. Not that he didn't like his face, he was neutral to it. The first time he had seen his face had been six months after he was "woken up".

Dr. Dayton had told him he had been dead and she had brought him back. He never found out why they brought him back but he felt like a monster. He didn't just dream and think about a woman he couldn't remember meeting but he dreamed of terrible things. Blood and screaming. A woman crying, a man overcome with blind fury smashing a car door on something wet and the hideous crunching sound that followed. He remembered the way warm blood had felt on his face, sticking to his skin. He remembered pulling a trigger, feeling cold and merciless. And Twelve had been terrified that he was this man. This walking living Death.

Even though Twelve never got an answer as to why Dr. Dayton had brought him back he had a few of his own ideas. First of all: his implants. Wires stretching throughout his body, criss crossing and causing a lot of pain. Then there was a metal plate in his head housing a small computer system he could tap into but since leaving the facility he had been locked out of it. He had been trying to break the code but he wasn't a code breaker, he was just a man. Or at least parts of him still were. Twelve got the idea that he was being used as an experiment for a greater purpose. Perhaps cybernetic soldiers?

Twelve thought of how Esme still called him James. It made him feel… calm but he wasn't used to it. A calmness he had not ever felt or at least this new version of himself had never felt. He was in a way reborn and he knew this and understood it. However memories of his old life, the old him, still plagued him.

Twelve couldn't imagine doing the things James had done though he had in fact done them himself. Thinking too much about it sometimes made Twelve's head pound. He was James but he wasn't. He was Twelve but he wasn't. He really was two men at war with one another and he had a feeling this wasn't the first time.

An ancient part of himself was screaming at him to draw blood and the voice demanded vengeance, it's lips dripping with his own spilt blood.

And then the calmer him. The one who didn't want to hurt anyone. The one who wanted to be free of the bars that bound him to a past he didn't know or understand.

Twelve raised his hands and looked at them. The intricate details of his fingerprints, the palmprints. The life line so utterly short it was laughable to anyone. Not that he believed in any of that kind of nonsense. His hands twitched. He rolled up his sleeve and glanced down at the thin metal wiring traveling along his forearm and under his skin.

Twelve looked back at his reflection.

"Who are we?" He asked.

XxX

"_Who are you?" Twelve asked through clenched teeth trying to escape the thick straps that bound him to the table._

"_I'm your creator, Twelve," Dr. Dayton said looking down at him like she was a giant. Her long Praying Mantis arms and hands twitching excitedly like the very bug she resembled. "I'm the Frankenstein to your Monster. We're going to be very good friends." Dr. Dayton said placing a cold boney hand on his shoulder. _

_Twelve struggled._

"_Who am I?" Twelve demanded. "Why am I here?" _

_Dr. Dayton clicked her tongue and shook her head._

"_None of that matters now," She said softly and she stroked his hair and he jerked away from her. "All that matters is that you're here and you're going to help me." _

_Twelve tried jerking free once more._

"_Please stop trying to escape. It's disappointing see you behaving so… human. We both know you're much more than that, Twelve." Dr. Dayton said and she held out her hand and a man in white handed her a syringe. _

"_That's not my name." Twelve said still trying to escape; he couldn't remember anything else but he knew that much to be true. _

"_Shh." Dr. Dayton said leaning closer to him with the syringe. _

_Twelve twitched and struggled as the needle entered his neck. He felt burning hot pain then numbness slithering into him._

"_That's… not… my name." Twelve said as his voice seemed to fade away from him. He couldn't move or speak. But he could feel. He tried to focus on anything, anything that wasn't the giant blinking lights above him._

"_Let's start with the heart, we'll move onto the brain later." Dr. Dayton said pulling on latex gloves. "Jones, music please."_

_And in the distance he could hear noise… a loud thumping beat to a pop song being sung in a language he didn't understand or recognize. _

_Twelve blinked a couple times and then an image appeared in front of him. He heard the faint sound of metal being moved and scraping and the pop song persisted in overwhelming his senses. _

_A scalpel caught in the light._

_A masked face… then a white empty space. The smell of burning wood… the softness of summer. The feel of skin against his hands. And two beautiful eyes floating in the white space the color of them shifting and changing._

"_Come back to me…" The eyes whispered. Twelve reached out with his hand in his hallucination. _

"_Help me." Twelve begged. _

"_Come back to me, James…" _

_That's when her face appeared through the white space. Like an angel on fire, standing on her pyre glowing and floating in white space, a memento of something he had forgotten. Something he was trying to run to but he was being pulled back into the darkness like a wormhole sucking him away from her. _

_There was a loud siren going off. Like a harbinger calling the return of reality. _

"_Don't let me go." Twelve begged. And like a bucket of ice water being poured on him he jerked awake to the pain. Like something was drilling into him. Cold, hot, painful. Like someone was pouring lava into his veins. _

"_No, he has to be awake." Dr. Dayton said to one of her assistants. "I want to see his face. I want him to thank me for the pain." Dr. Dayton said calmly. _

_And throughout the facility hundreds of screams could be heard cutting through the loud pop song… and they all didn't belong to just Twelve. _

"James?" His eyes flicked up to Esme's reflection behind him. She stood there wiping her eyes of tiredness. He turned to face her entirely.

"My name isn't James." He said simply. Esme nodded her head. "I was called Twelve."

Esme approached him slowly and reached out to take his hand. He almost flinched but didn't. She noticed his rolled up sleeve and gasped as she ran her fingers over the soft metal.

"James, who did this to you?" Esme asked, she was concerned. Of course she was, she couldn't help it. What had they done to him?

Twelve shrugged. "Dr. Dayton did this to me. And to others. I'm not sure how many. I tried to count the voices once but I couldn't through the pain." Twelve explained. Esme rolled his sleeve back down.

"What did they do to you?" She asked him.

"Experiments. A lot of them. They put these implants in me to make me smarter, stronger. There's a computer in my brain but I've been disconnected from the database. I don't know why they haven't tried disconnecting me entirely." Twelve said.

Esme shook her head.

"You're not a robot, James. They can't just turn you off and on whenever they want. They can't just unplug you like a toaster. You're a human being." Esme said passionately. She took hold of his arms through her words.

"I'm afraid that's exactly how they see me, a toaster. I believe I was supposed to be some sort of weapon. Or… something akin to one. They wanted me to hurt someone and I refused. They… they tried to make me and I wouldn't. They were going to destroy me. Dr. Dayton said she was disappointed in me. They tried to take what was left of me and turn me into a monster. A worse monster than I was before. They didn't like that I said no. I escaped. The failsafe they were talking about must be faulty because if they wanted to I could hit the floor dead whenever they want." James explained.

Esme became infuriated. Who the hell were these people that thought they could just play God with whomever they wanted. Did they go around picking up dead bodies on the street or in morgues and perform ungodly things to them?

It was disgusting. It was monstrous.

"But I needed you," Twelve said reaching up and touching her cheek. "I knew you would remember me from when I was still completely human. When I wasn't some undead freak, walking around playing at being alive. I'm torn between being dead and being some science experiment that escaped the lab." Twelve paused and laughed gently. "I can remember your love, Esme. In a strange, unexplainable way I think you kept me alive. Through it all. Coming back, losing my memory, for a while my mind, losing everything that made me human, you kept bringing me back. And I don't remember meeting you. I don't remember our first kiss. But I remember," Twelve paused again. He stepped closer to her.

Esme's heart raised. His voice dropped a little, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

"I remember the connection when I was inside you. I remember the way you felt… naked in my arms. The way your hand felt in my hair. You… it was always you. Always for you. And I can't stop letting it be you. I can't-"

Esme shut him up by standing on her tip toes, gripping the sides of his face and kissing him.

Twelve wrapped his arms around her and lifted her. Her legs were around him in seconds; as he carried her up the stairs to her room Esme didn't ask how he knew where her bedroom. There would always be things about him that would be a mystery to her.

As they entered her room he set her down and she turned on her nightlight. It cast a soothing glow around the room. She threw off her shirt and kicked off her shoes as he did the same.

Twelve briefly wondered if he would be able to perform given all of his past bodily trauma. But when she began kissing his neck so sweetly he realized he would have no problem at all. He might have died and come back to life, he might have been turned into a strange creature with metal parts but he was still a warm blooded man. And this man needed his woman.

Esme smiled against his neck as he moaned. She kissed his sweet spot, the area she knew he was always so vulnerable too and the small scars that were scattered across his neck and collarbone reminded her of stars.

_Some things never change, _Esme thought pleasantly. She didn't know how they got from the trail in the woods to this now. How long had it been? Hours?

Twelve and Esme sat on the edge of the bed just holding and kissing each other. Esme leaned back to gaze at his scars. Beneath the thin layers of his skin she could see some blinking lights. She ran her hand over the scars on his abdomen. She kissed each one. He gripped her shoulders and hauled her up and pressed her down onto the mattress and he climbed over her.

When the did come together Esme gripped him tighter than she ever had before. It hurt a little, it had been a year since they'd had sex. But Twelve gave her a moment to adjust when he saw her expression. He gripped her leg and opened her wider for him and she moaned loudly when he began to slowly thrust into her.

"Uh, fuck, James." She moaned. Twelve didn't care if she was calling out _his _name. That wasn't his name anymore. He wouldn't be that man anymore. Even if it was a part of him. Constantly trying to claw it's way out. Part of it was that Twelve didn't want to be that man anymore but he also didn't know how to be a new man. But perhaps he could learn. Perhaps Esme could teach him.

Twelve rolled himself onto his back with Esme propped up on top of him. She was so beautiful like this. Her long hair falling down her back, her different colored eyes flashing shyly at him. He ran his hands up her waist. She pushed down on him and he met her thrust for thrust.

God it felt good to be inside of her again. Esme was his fire, his water, his hope, his love, his everything. She was his elysium.

Esme planted her hands on his chest and used him for her pleasure. He leaned up and wrapped his arms around her.

Esme felt herself coming closer to the edge and she ran towards it, begging to fall off. He held her as if he was afraid she'd disappear into thin air.

"Yes, yes, right there! Please…" Esme begged and Twelve moved his hand between them and flicked her clit. She suddenly stilled and gasped and gripped him hard by the shoulders. Twelve moved her onto her back again and in the afterglow of her own orgasm, he rode out his own, collapsing beside her.

Esme curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder.

"Why don't you need glasses anymore?" Esme asked him.

Twelve shrugged. "I guess they fixed my eyes. One thing they did right."

Esme traced the scar on his chin.

"Do you remember dying?" Esme asked him. Twelve shook his head.

"No. I just remember the light and a face behind it. I don't like thinking about where I was when I died. Sometimes I think they should have left me there. For everything terrible I've done when I was James I deserved that. The memories. It's unbearable sometimes." Twelve said and he looked away from Esme, ashamed.

"I'm glad you're here. I hated you for so long but another part of me kept waiting for you." Esme said. He held her hand.

"No more waiting." Twelve said softly, stroking her hair.

"No more waiting." Esme replied.

But something kept nagging at Esme.

"James, if you escaped. Won't the come looking for you?" Esme asked him. Twelve nodded his head.

"Which is why I'll need to leave soon." Twelve said. Esme thought she might cry but she didn't. She had a feeling he couldn't stay.

"I'll come back. I know this is a line you've heard before but… I can't risk you getting hurt. I'll call once a week but I won't be able to say anything. Just so you know I'm still alive. And when I think it's safe I'll come back to you." Twelve promised her.

Esme closed her eyes and held him closer. She rolled over onto her back with him behind her, he stroked her shoulders.

"Don't forget about me, okay?" Esme said, smiling through her sadness.

"I could never forget the woman who made me feel human when I didn't think I was anymore. Or the woman who could love a monster when he thought he was a man." Twelve said kissing the back of her neck and down her spine.

Esme turned in his arms and gripped his face.

"I love you." Esme said and Twelve didn't move or blink.

"I love you." Twelve said and Esme smiled and he kissed her forehead.

When Esme woke up in the morning James was still there. She had thought he'd leave right away but he seemed to plan on staying at least another day and Esme wouldn't argue with him.

XxX

James had gotten used to Esme calling him by that name. He didn't particularly care to be called a number. He didn't like the way it made him feel less human. James found it funny that it took dying and coming back to life and losing most of his memory to actually feel human.

Maybe this was life's plan all along. Maybe he had to earn it.

James looked at Esme as she made breakfast and could only be thankful that she had taken him back. But he wondered if it was nostalgia of the old him or the kindness of the new him that attracted her back to him. James supposed he would learn in time. Either way he did love her. That was something the old him and the new him could agree on. That they were totally and completely in love with Esme Lydia Jacobs.

"James, cut the peppers?" Esme asked him and he nodded his head. He began chopping the peppers and he looked away for only the briefest moment when he thought he saw someone outside the window. He cut his finger and he swore. Esme wrapped a towel around his finger.

"Looks like you weren't paying attention again." Esme teased him.

"Yeah," James said and he went to the window. There was nothing, no one. Wyatt wasn't barking as he kept watch on the porch. He felt his heart calm down.

"You usually pay attention to all the details." Esme reminded him. James shrugged. "I guess I let one get away from me." James said as he checked his wound. It looked worse than it was.

"Yeah well, I'm glad the details escape you sometimes. Otherwise we never would have met. And can you imagine what that would've been like?" Esme said smiling. James got up from his stool and kissed her temple.

"I can't imagine whatsoever."

THE END.

**A/N: So maybe this wasn't what you were expecting but… I wanted a happy ending. As much as I want to please my audience I also want to please myself too (that sounds wrong). But I hope you enjoyed the story regardless. These two crazy kids might have more adventures ahead of them. The song being played when James (Twelve) is being experimented on is Numa Numa, look up the translated lyrics! Any questions, comments, concerns? **

**Here is the FULL playlist for this fan fic-**

**P1**

Under Your Spell- by _Desire_

**P2**

I'm On Fire- _Chromatics_

**P3**

Love Me Like You- _Ellie Goulding_

**P4**

Straight to Number One/This Magic Moment- _Touch and Go and The Drifters_

**P5**

Rhiannon- _Fleetwood Mac_

**P6**

Never Tear Us Apart- _NYXS_

**P7**

Songs My Mother Taught Me- _Fritz Kriesler_

**P8**

Say Something- _Great Big World_

**P9**

Comfortably Numb- _Pink Floyd_

**P10**

All For A Woman- _The Airborne Toxic Event/Numa Numa- O-Zone/Gravity- Steven Price_


End file.
